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rae-writes · 1 year ago

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angelic alteration

om brothers x reader

wc : 1.k

warnings: nsfw, corruption kink based

synopsis : when Solomon and Diavolo can't fix the problem, it's up to Mc

a/n : thought the angel event (og) could use some more spice so I poured my entire spice rack on it

“Mc…I’m afraid we have bad news.”

You sighed into the receiver, “Yeah? You guys can’t reverse the magic, can you?”

“Nope!” Solomon chirped cheerfully, “Diavolo and Michael’s magic mixed together too strongly for us to reverse ourselves. You’ll just have to wait for them to go back to normal, or…”

“Or…what?”

“Well, this is just a theory, but what if you just corrupted the angelic magic and forced their demonic sides back out?”

“Corrupted, huh..? I like the sound of that.”

†

“I can feel the magic trying to stop me…how. stupidly. annoying.” Lucifer accentuated each word of his complaint with a sharp thrust, face pinched in concentration as sweat beaded at his temple.

He’d be damned if something as trivial as a hexed bracelet from the celestial realm kept him from indulging in you, the one temptation he would never dare ignore.

Your nails dug crescent moons into his shoulders, thighs squeezing at his hips tightly as you moaned and panted beneath him. “Lu-ci-fer! S-slow d-own!”

He growled and sped up in response, snapping his hips into you harshly, “How dare they try to turn me back? I am the Avatar. Of. Pride!” Once again, each word was accentuated with a thrust, making his cock hit deeper and deeper each time.

And he was so fucking proud each time he had you a moaning mess underneath him, crying out his name, begging him not to stop— you made his sin flood his entire body every time.

An electric charge cracked through the air for a brief second before the bangle broke in half, magic forcibly shattering under Lucifer’s sheer prowess.

He grinned sharply, capturing your legs against your chest in a mating press as he went even harder. His wings shedded to black, spanning out proudly behind him as the halo melted down into his horns.

“I’m going to ruin you, do you hear me? You’re not leaving this bed- not tonight, or in the morning, or maybe even until tomorrow afternoon…I’m keeping you until I’ve had my fill.”

†

The sight of Mammon’s blue eyes peering up while his mouth was busy pleasuring you had always been a pretty sight— the shimmering halo was only a little bonus this time.

But you wanted his horns to hold onto. “Just like that, Mams…doing so well, pretty boy.” Your hips rocked over his mouth, grinning down at him with gold flickering in your eyes.

He was all about giving now that the bangle had taken hold, which even before, Mammon always keened when you sat on his face and just used him.

The second born was moaning and whining and whimpering against your skin as his tongue lapped up everything he could, “Mmph- like this? ‘M I doing good, Mc?”

“Y-yeah, baby, fuck— so good…” you carded your fingers through Mammon’s hair, feeling him get more and more excited before you lifted up off his face.

And he was absolutely distraught with the lack of your taste, desperate cry leaving him as he tried to chase after you. “No, no, no! Mc, please, come back— wasn’t done, wanna taste you still, wanna make you feel good, please!”

The laugh you let out made him whine even louder, fingers gripping frantically at your thighs. It was like a switch flipped, magic being overtaken by his greed.

His eyes flickered gold like yours, a whiny growl escaping him. He forced you on your back within a second, mouth working at you even more desperately now as he held you down and took what he wanted— and he wanted to make you cum.

“Jus’ let me, please let me make you cum— you taste so good, Mc, I don’t wanna stop. Want you to scream my name and yank my hair, grip my horns, just give me more- more, more, more!”

†

A small shriek left Levi when you rammed against his prostate, hiccuped cries of your name following. His back arched, wings flaring out behind him, making you hit even deeper spots inside of him.

With his new attitude, he’d been letting everyone else spend time with you and he was finally feeling the built up envy creep along his spine, right beside the spikes of pleasure.

“Aww…look at you. So sweet for me, huh? Why so shy, Levi? Wasn’t this what you meant about strengthening connections?”

Garbled sounds left him, courtesy of your fingers stuffed in his mouth. His eyes rolled back, hands gripping at your hips desperately, though it wasn’t clear if he was pushing you away or pulling you closer.

“How am I gonna know I’m doing good if you don’t tell me, ‘vi? C’mon, sweet thing, tell me. Or do you not want me?”

It was like you asked the unthinkable. A loud whine left him and his tail returned, knocking the halo right off his head before it coiled around your abdomen.

“No! I want you, I want you so badly, please keep fucking me— don’t stop, don’t stop, don’t stop!” Diamond shaped scales scattered across his body as the magic wore out.

You cooed, thrusting into him sharply, making his body lurch, “Good boy, Leviathan..”

†

“Fuck!” Satan cries out, fingers digging into his white wings to try and keep them from fluttering. His back arched almost painfully, loudly begging you to keep going.

“Oh, look at you…” the coos that left you made him flush red, giving you a great sense of satisfaction. This was the most he’d been riled up since putting that ridiculous bangle on.

Your thighs were burning at the unforgiving pace you were riding him at, beads of sweat splashing onto his skin, so you decided to change the game a little.

“Come on, Tannie, if you want it, work for it.” You settled your weight on top of him, ceasing your movements as you cockwarmed him instead.

A displeased growl comes from the back of his throat, eyes snapping open with a glowing green. “Mc, move! Please!”

Slowly, the halo above his head began to flicker and dim before it shattered, dissipating in the air. Another growl escaped him as his wings followed suit, tail lashing out like a whip.

“That’s it— c’mon-!” You gasped when he yanked you forwards, chest pressing against his as his tail locked you in place. The only sounds that could leave you now were broken moans as he fucked you almost viciously.

“You know how I feel about you fucking. teasing. me. Feels good doesn’t it? Yeah? Cause I’m not stopping. ‘M not stopping until I physically can’t fuck you anymore— fuck, I needed you.”

†

Unabashed moans echo off the walls of Asmo’s bathroom as the fifth born writhes under your touch. The sound of water sloshing makes his cheeks burn fiery red and the sound of you moaning back at him makes it even worse.

“W-wait! You d-don’t have to— oh!”

“Shh, Azzy…’m just taking care of you. You were so hard and aching…could see it even though you tried to hide under the water.”

The white feathers ruffled with pleasure (slowly shedded away and turning back), hips jerking frantically to chase the pleasure. The bangle’s magic was completely buried under how hot you made him feel and the feeling of you licking along the edges of his leathery wings increased it ten fold.

“Yes, Mc, like that— don’t stop, just like that, just like that!” Amso curled over on you, horns knocking against your shoulder as he cried out even louder.

You fisted his cock harder and swiped your thumb over the tip relentlessly, “Yeah? Made you feel so good, you corrupted yourself, huh? Pretty little Azzy…come on, cum.”

The squeal he let out cracked halfway through, broken cries of your name following like a mantra. His hand encased yours, making sure you didn’t stop jerking him off.

“K-keep going, don’t stop! Wanna cum for you again ‘n again, gotta make up for when I was giving you away to the others, please, please, let me cum again for you!”

†

“H-haaah…ah! M-Mc…what’re you..o-oh..doing?”

“You said it made you happier seeing others get to eat, so…” you hummed, licking your lips before digging your tongue back into the slit of his cock, “I’m just..enjoying my meal…”

Beel had always lost his cool when you went down on him, finding your mouth to be too good at pleasuring him. The growl he let out was something only a demon could make.

The glowing of the bangle did nothing to deter you— in fact, you only laughed and peered up at him with the red sin of gluttony swirling through your irises. With another hum, you enveloped his cock in your mouth and forced your head as far down as you could, swallowing around him.

He tried so hard to not buck into your mouth or grip at your head as the magic worked to keep his ravenous nature at bay, but…that’s just not who he was anymore.

“C’mon, Beelie…want you to cum in my mouth, I wanna taste you..pretty please? Let me have it…”

A low groan fell past his lips, hips finally jerking up and accidentally making you choke. A rushed apology was given as his fingers tangled in your hair and gently guided your head at a faster pace.

The beating of his insectual wings was rapid as he got closer, magic completely dissipating when he let out a sound akin to a small roar, grabbing at his own horns when he came.

Watching you pull away with visibly stuffed cheeks, slowly working on swallowing it all (though drops still ran down your chin) made a sharp pang shoot through him.

“Thank you…you always make me feel so good, Mc…but..now ‘m hungry. Let me return the favor..wanna taste you too.”

†

“A-are you sure…this is o-okay?” Belphie chokes out quietly, hands pressing down on your hips to keep you pinned to the bed with your knees bent to your sides.

Your fingers curl in the sheets, body lurching forward at each thrust, “yeah, ‘s okay— feels good, doesn’t it? You’re doing so good, Bel…”

The clipped whines and gasps that Belphie was making made his cheeks flair with an embarrassed flush; but you were right. It felt so. fucking. good. And he didn’t think he ever wanted to stop.

Through the pleasure, it was easy to ignore the glowing bangle on his wrist and the voice in the back of his head telling him that he should have more reservations- that he shouldn’t be doing this— that voice wasn’t even his. Belphie wanted this, he did!

As your hands stretched back to claw at his lower stomach, you moaned out his name and wiggled your hips, begging him to go faster.

“Please, Bel…know you can go f-faster than this, want you to fuck me— please, please, please! Don’t wan’ you to be an angel, want you to be my demon again-!”

Magic cracked in the air, sending the hair on the back of your neck rising before a familiar tail curled around your stomach and yanked your lower half higher up, forcing your chest further into the mattress.

The attic bed creaked with the force he slammed into you at, whines mixing with growls now; his horns pressed against your skin as he rested his forehead against your back, making it arch even more.

“Yeah? You want me to fuck you senseless again? Couldn’t even go a couple days without having me play with you, fuck, you’re such a slut for me.”

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gemstonejewelryguide · 2 years ago

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What are the Top 5 Gold Gift Ideas for Babies?

Babies bring an altogether new feeling in a person’s life. When your loved one has a baby, you would love to show your love too with the best and most valuable gifts.

#Baby Gold Bracelets #Indian Gold Bracelets #Baby Boy Gold Bangles #Baby Boy Kada #Baby Girl Bangles #Indian Jewelry for child

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aventurineswife · 1 month ago

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May I please request Aven playing with his twin babies??? (I always imagine him having boy and girl twins)

Like, imagine their tiny hands trying to grab his expensive trinkets and use them as teething toys (idk what they're called LOL) 💖💖

“Sometimes the smallest things take up the most room in your heart”

Summary: Aventurine finds himself caught in the simplest yet most precious game of them all: fatherhood. As he watches his twin babies playfully fight for his trinkets, he is overcome by a rare sense of joy and love and forgets his usual guarded ways. The twins bring out this part of him, an element of play which he has kept hidden for so long, reminding him that the gamble may not always be about wealth or power but about love and family and sometimes just the little things in life.

Tags: Dad!Aventurine, Family, Parenthood, Humor, Mischief, Love, Emotional Vulnerability, Joy.

A/N: searched it up and it's called teething toys (for babies), so you're correct! Don't worry :3

Aventurine had always been a man of risk—whether it was navigating the volatile corridors of power or placing a bet on an impossible con. But today, the stakes were far more personal, and far more precious.

He sat on a plush velvet armchair in the lavish sitting room of his estate, his usually composed features softened by a rare, unguarded smile. His children—his twin babies—played at his feet. The boy with his bright eyes and unruly hair laughed as he reached out for the small trinket that rested on the low table in front of his father. The girl, her dark eyes twinkling mischievously, was already doing her best to grab at the same piece of jewelry, her chubby fingers curling around the delicate gold chain.

They get him with a teasing, affectionate smile, the careful mask slipping in their presence. Aventurine thought himself a strategist: one reads the room and predicts the next move. This game of life has changed, though, when it comes to these two; his heart runs in an uncharted course.

"Ah, no, no," he crooned softly, reaching down to pull the gold necklace from their jaws, "That's not for you to chew on."

The boy whimpered softly, his huge eyes looking up at his father, while the girl beamed up at him as if plotting her next move. It was as if they were already working together—hard not to laugh at this. He had a feeling of something between alarm and endearment at the mischievous streak that mirrored his own.

"You two are already scheming," he said to himself, shaking his head. His eyes remained on their small hands, still reaching for anything they could grab. The girl grabbed the chip coin, clutching it in her chubby little fist. Aventurine's heart fluttered at how such small hands could hold such weight in his life.

"You know," he started, settling back in the chair as he absently fidgeted with his bracelet, "your parent would have a fit if they saw you two playing with my trinkets. They're far too expensive for you to be using them as teething toys."

But the two of them did not give up. The boy, not wanting to lose, managed to tug at a delicate gold ring on his father's wrist with a surprising strength in those baby fingers.

With a theatrical sigh, Aventurine carefully took off the ring, his voice playful yet firm. "If you keep this up, you'll ruin my reputation as the greatest gambler in the universe," he teased. "People will hear about the time I lost my ring to a toddler."

The twins giggled in perfect synchrony, their little voices harmonizing in the most innocent way yet having in their expressions mischief written. Perfect, the gamble paid off in the most wonderful of ways—though Aventurine would never admit how much a gamble fatherhood was truly.

As the boy squirmed closer now to pull at his father's choker, Aventurine couldn't resist. His usual wariness was forgotten in the glow of the moment, and he let them have their play. For the universe held no treasures to rival the joy he felt in their company.

"You little thieves," Aventurine laughed, hoisting the girl up onto his lap, her face breaking out into a grin that was at once his charm and her parent's warmth. The boy crawled up to his side, reaching for his father's face, as if trying to claim him entirely.

Aventurine’s heart fluttered again—this time, he didn’t even try to stop it. He was theirs, every last bit of him. And for once, he didn’t need to calculate the cost of that connection.

For this gamble, there was no risk at all.

#x reader #honkai star rail #hsr #honkai star rail x reader #hsr x reader #hsr aventurine #aventurine x reader #hsr aventurine x reader #aventurine x you #dad!aventurine #family #parenthood #humor #mischief #love #emotional vulnerability #joy

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msbigredmachine · 1 month ago

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The Boy Next Door: Chapter Six

MASTERLIST ✨ harmshake’s masterlist ✨ msbigredmachine’s masterlist

Word Count: 9k

TRIGGER WARNINGS: 18+, NSFW, language, angst, violence, smut

Ivy hadn’t realized how much space Roman took up in her life until she pulled away. A week of zero contact felt like forever, especially after they’d been practically inseparable before. Where his texts and calls once lit up her phone all day and made her smile, the same texts and calls…well, voicemails…were now grating, each one pleading and importunate and doing nothing to quell her current stance. She wasn’t sure if the distance was for his sake or hers, but after what she’d witnessed that day, it was absolutely necessary.

Every time she thought about Roman yelling at Zaia, the venom laced in his voice, it sent a chill up her spine. Sure, he had apologized—and was damn near begging since then—but the memory lingered like a bad taste. She couldn’t get past the fear she’d seen in her daughter’s eyes.

Zaia, funny enough, seemed to have already moved on. It helped that Roman was pretty much bombarding her with presents, the latest being a Little Mermaid (Halle) coloring set and a handwritten note that Ivy found in Zaia’s new Hello Kitty backpack:

“For the best little DJ I know.” Zaia had beamed when she read it, proudly showing Ivy the small charm bracelet he’d tucked into the package as part of his peace offering.

But Ivy wasn’t a six-year-old. Roman’s charm, his gifts, his apologies—they didn’t erase the cracks forming in her trust. She couldn’t shake the memory of his sharp tone, his anger. And, as much as she hated to admit it, there was something else. Something deeper, a gnawing unease she couldn’t quite name.

Saturday Afternoon

She was folding laundry in the living room when the doorbell rang. Duchess barked sharply, scampering to the door as Ivy set down Zaia’s unicorn-printed pajamas and sighed. She knew exactly who it was. Roman had texted her earlier, saying he wanted to stop by.

When she opened the door, there he stood, impossibly handsome in a fitted black T-shirt that clung to his broad chest and sweats that hung just right on his hips. His tribal tattoos spread from beneath his right sleeve, a tantalizing display of inked skin. In one hand, he held a large gift bag, and in the other, a bouquet of deep red roses.

“Hey, baby,” he said, his voice a smooth rumble as he flashed a tentative, almost nervous grin. “I come bearing gifts.”

Ivy crossed her arms and raised an eyebrow. “More, huh? You trying to bribe me?”

Roman chuckled. “Is it working?”

Rolling her eyes, she stepped aside for him. “Not yet.”

He grinned, closing the door behind him before following Ivy into the foyer. Duchess sniffed at his boots, her tail wagging, while Roman set the bag and flowers on the counter. “This is for Zaia,” he said, pulling a small stuffed dolphin from the bag. “She mentioned how much she loved that sea animals documentary the other day. Thought she’d like this.”

Ivy softened slightly, her arms uncrossing. “At this point, you’re spoiling her,” she said.

Roman shrugged sheepishly. “Well, I do owe her. And these,” he held up the roses, “are for you. Not cuz I messed up—though I know I did—but because…I miss you. I miss us.”

His words hit a nerve. Ivy wanted to stay mad, to keep him at arm’s length, but the longing in his dark eyes tugged at her heart. She took the roses from him, inhaling their sweet scent.

“You ain't making this easy, you know,” she said quietly, setting the flowers in a vase.

“I don’t want it to be easy. I want it to be right.” Roman insisted, reaching into the gift bag before turning to her. “I got you one more thing…” He held a small box out to her, wrapped in elegant gold paper.

Ivy frowned but accepted it, unwrapping it carefully. Her eyes widened at the Tiffany & Co. packaging. She glanced up at him, gauging his hopeful expression, and then opened the box. Inside was a delicate gold necklace with a small heart pendant. It sparkled in the light, simple yet stunning.

“Roman…” she started, her voice trailing off.

“I hate this distance between us,” he implored, stepping closer. “I miss you, Ivy. I miss your smile, your laugh, the way you look at me when you think I’m not paying attention.” His voice dropped to a near whisper. “I miss your touch. Your hugs…your kisses.”

She swallowed hard, her emotions warring inside her. “Roman, I…I don’t know…”

“I understand why you’ve been staying away,” he said quickly. “I fucked up, baby, and I’ll spend as long as I need to, making it up to you. But I can’t stand being away from you like this. It’s killing me.”

He cleared his throat, his Adam’s apple shifting and his hand running over his mouth and gray beard. He then, reached for her hand, his touch warm and familiar. “Baby, I’m not perfect, but I’ll do whatever it takes to make this work. I swear to you. You and me—we’re amazing together. I need you, Ivy.”

Her resolve faltered. Damn him and his way with words. The sincerity in his tone, the way his thumb stroked her knuckles—it all chipped away at her defenses.

“I don’t know, Ro…” she started, but he didn’t let her finish.

“Come here,” he murmured, settling down in one of the foyer chairs and pulling her gently onto his lap. “Sit with me.”

“Roman,” she protested weakly, though she didn’t resist.

“Just for a minute,” he said, his arms circling around her slender waist as he looked up at her. “I've missed holding my baby. Let me hold you. Please.”

Ivy sighed, her body betraying her as she melted into him, growing even more traitorous as she absorbed the feel of his lips brushing her neck, then her jaw, and finally her mouth. The kiss was slow and consuming, pulling her under like a riptide. Her hands found the sides of his neck, gripping tightly as she kissed him back. His lips were soft yet insistent, his hands firm as they slid up her back to keep her close. She hated how good he felt, how easily he unraveled her. There was something about his kisses. They made her forget the world, made her forget him—the man who scared her, the man she doubted. In these moments, he was just Roman, the man who made her feel alive.

At last, they broke apart, but only just. Roman's big hands caressed her face, holding her as if he was afraid she’d disappear. “Tell me, Ivy,” he whispered, “Tell me you’ve missed me too.”

Her resolve wavered as she looked into his eyes. Damn it, she had. Despite everything, despite her doubts, he drew her in like a moth to a flame. Every damn time he touched her, kissed her, all her defenses crumbled. It was dangerous, but fuck did it feel good.

“I missed you too,” she admitted breathlessly, pulling back just enough to meet his gaze.

His smile was slow, almost predatory. “I knew you did.”

She rolled her eyes but didn’t pull away, kissing him one more time before resting her head on his shoulder. For a moment, it felt like old times, like they hadn’t spent the last week avoiding each other. But then the doubts crept back in, nagging at the edges of her mind.

As if sensing her hesitation, Roman kissed her forehead and shifted the mood. “I’ve been thinking,” he said, his tone lighter. “We need to get away. You, me, and Zaia. Somewhere warm and sunny. How about Hawaii?”

Ivy sat up straight, blinking, caught off guard. “Hawaii?”

“Yeah,” he said, his enthusiasm growing. “You’ve been working so hard at the hospital lately, and I see how much you do for Zaia. You deserve a break. Both of you.” He trailed off as he rubbed her hip, his touch firm and persuasive. “Plus, we can really focus on us. No distractions. Just paradise.”

Ivy smiled faintly, but something about the way he was speaking—so eager, almost insistent—made her uneasy. “That does sound amazing,” she admitted, glancing over at Duchess, who was now laying in her kennel. “But it’s not that simple. Zaia’s school just started back up, and I have shifts scheduled. Plus, traveling with a six-year-old isn’t exactly relaxing.”

Roman waved her concerns away, his expression unwavering. “All of that can be worked out. I’ll take care of the arrangements. You deserve this, Ivy.” His voice lowered, more intimate now. “You’ve given so much to everyone else—Zaia, your patients—you need to give yourself a little grace.”

Ivy hesitated, torn between the allure of his words and the knot of unease tightening in her chest. It wasn’t that she didn’t want to get away—God knew she could use the break—but Roman’s urgency felt…off. Too perfect, too rehearsed.

She settled with a forced smile. “Let me think about it, okay?”

Roman’s expression flickered for a brief moment, a shadow in his eyes. But before he could respond, Zaia came bounding down the stairs, her eyes lighting up when she saw the big man in the foyer.

“Roman!” she squealed, running over to hug him.

He grinned, lifting her onto his lap alongside Ivy. “Hey, little lady. Look what I brought you.”

As Zaia tore into the gift bag, Ivy watched Roman out of the corner of her eye. He was attentive, affectionate, the perfect picture of a doting boyfriend and even a possible stepfather.

But deep down, Ivy couldn’t shake the feeling that something wasn’t right. Something about Roman wasn’t adding up anymore. And until she figured out what it was, she couldn’t let her guard down—not completely.

Sunday Afternoon

Her bedroom was dim, save for the slivers of sunlight that slipped through the blinds, casting long streaks across the walls. A faint hint of lavender clung to the air from the candle Ivy had lit earlier, now reduced to a hardened pool of wax on the nightstand. The room was warm, and would have been quiet had it not been for the bed rocking beneath the moving bodies, heavy breaths mixing in the silence. The rhythmic creak of the bed, their moans and gasps, filled the space, escalating until she collapsed on top of him, their bodies trembling from the intensity of it all.

It had started innocently enough—a nice Sunday lunch on her day off, opting to extend an invitation to Roman to ensure he wasn’t alone…or so she told herself. There had been the familiar, easy chatter between her and Roman, Zaia’s laughter echoing as they set the table together, their bodies just inches away from each other, close but not too close as they sat side by side. But as time ticked by, the tension began to shift. By the time she tucked Zaia in for her afternoon nap, it was sizzling. Roman’s gaze had deepened, his touch lingered a little longer, and before she knew it, he was in her bed again.

A blur of sensations—long fingers, warm skin, the heat of his body overwhelming hers. Roman had been tender but forceful, his touch demanding in a way that sent electric currents surging through her veins. The feeling of him inside her had been comforting, intoxicating, and sorely missed, and when she had begged him—moaned for him—it was as if she had lost control completely, her body responding to him in ways she couldn’t explain.

An hour later, her bare body pressed against his solid, warm frame. His muscled arm draped lazily over her, his fingers tracing absent patterns on her butt cheek. The steady beat of his heart was a reminder that, for now, they were both here, tangled in the aftermath of what had just happened.

“I’ve been thinking,” Roman said suddenly, his baritone voice breaking the stillness.

Ivy turned her head, her curls brushing against his chest. She raised an eyebrow, a small smirk tugging at her lips. “Thinking? That sounds dangerous. About what?”

He huffed a soft laugh, his fingers pausing their motion before resuming. “About us. About you…and Zaia.” His tone softened, dipping into something vulnerable. “You two are the best thing that’s happened to me since I moved here.”

Her chest tightened at his words, the sincerity in them catching her off guard. She wasn’t sure what to say, so she stayed silent, her fingers sliding idly along his tattooed forearm, encouraging him to continue.

His dark eyes gleamed in the low light, his expression open yet serious. “You know I don’t have any kids of my own. Elesha and I never got to…” he trailed off, his voice dropping to a tender murmur. “Being around you and Zaia…it’s made me realize how much I want that again. Marriage. A family, a real one. With you.”

Ivy’s breath hitched, her lips parting slightly as her eyes searched his. “Ro…”

“I mean it,” he said, brushing a strand of hair from her face. His fingers lingered on her cheek, his thumb stroking her skin. “Watching you with Zaia always warms my heart. You’re an amazing mom, baby. And I can’t stop thinking about how incredible it would be to give her a little brother or sister. To give us that.”

His words landed with the weight of a tidal wave, equal parts intoxicating and overwhelming. For a moment, Ivy could almost see the life he described: the happy, chaotic mornings, the sound of children’s laughter filling the house, Roman’s strong arms wrapping around her as they watched their family grow.

But then reality crashed back in. The nagging memory came rushing in again; of Roman’s voice raised in anger at Zaia, the way he’d lost control, even if just for a moment. He’d been trying to be much better since then, but Ivy couldn’t help wondering—what if it happened again? What if this perfect vision cracked under the pressure of another child?

Her gaze dropped, her stomach twisting. “Roman, that’s…that’s a lot to think about,” she said carefully, her tone hesitant. “I mean, I love what we have, but I don’t know if I’m ready for another child. Zaia’s still young, and—”

He cut her off gently, his fingers tilting her chin back toward him. “Hey,” he murmured, his voice dropping to a soothing whisper. “I’m not saying it has to happen tomorrow. I just…I want you to know how serious I am about us. About you.”

Her heart thudded painfully in her chest, torn between the warmth of his words and the unease curling at the edges of her mind. She was in love with him—she knew she was—but something inside her held back, a quiet voice whispering caution.

“I get it, baby. But let’s…let’s take things a little slower,” she said finally, her voice barely above a whisper. “Okay? We still have time.”

Roman’s smile faltered for the briefest moment, but he recovered quickly, leaning down to press a kiss to her lips. “Fair enough,” he said, though his tone carried an undercurrent she couldn’t quite place.

Ivy tried to lighten the mood, needing to shake the weight of the conversation. “So,” she said, running her fingers along his forearm, “have you thought about having a housewarming party?”

Roman tensed slightly, the flicker of apprehension in his eyes so quick she almost missed it. “A housewarming party?”

“Yeah,” she said casually, though her curiosity was piqued by his reaction. “You’ve met more people since Gemini’s party. It might be nice to invite them to yours. I remember how fun it was when mine happened. You’ve made some friends, right?”

He shrugged, his hand resuming its idle strokes on her hip. “I don’t know, Ivy. I’m not really comfortable with people coming over just yet.”

“For real?” she pressed, her tone light but probing. “I haven’t even met your work colleagues yet. Or seen your office, come to think of it.”

Roman stiffened, his jaw tightening. “Nah, not happening,” he said, his voice sharper than intended, but quickly added, “I mean, the office is a mess—renovations, chaos everywhere. Besides,” he said, his tone softening as he ran a hand down her back, “I like keeping my personal space… personal.”

The words landed heavily, and Ivy blinked, her hand freezing mid-stroke along his chest. Confusion flickered across her face before it hardened into something sharper. “Wow,” she said slowly, her voice laced with quiet frustration. She rolled off him, sat up and crossed her arms. “So, what? You don’t want me in your space? After everything I’ve shared with you?”

Roman hesitated, his dark eyes narrowing slightly. “It’s not that,” he said, his tone smooth but guarded. “It’s just…I like things a certain way. My space is where I clear my head. You get that, right?”

“No, Roman,” she said, her voice firm but tinged with hurt. “I don’t get it. It feels like you’re shutting me out.”

Roman’s jaw clenched, his fingers curling into the sheet beneath them. “It’s not about you, Ivy,” he said softly, though the tightness in his voice betrayed his frustration. “It’s just…I need to keep some things separate. Trust me, okay?”

Ivy let out a bitter laugh, pulling away from him slightly. “Trust you,” she repeated, her voice cold. “Funny how that’s getting harder to do.”

Roman sat up slightly, the tension in his broad shoulders undeniable. “Baby, wait,” he said, his voice softening. When she didn’t respond, he reached out, his hand brushing hers. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it like that.”

Ivy rolled her eyes. “Right.”

He sighed, running a hand through his long, loose hair. “I’m just…tired. Work’s been a lot lately. Stress piling up. You know how it is, Miss Assistant Head Nurse.”

Ivy studied his face, searching for answers he clearly wasn’t willing to give. She’d learned that despite his openness, Roman was a man of walls—carefully constructed barriers that he rarely let her peek behind. The storage room in his basement came to mind, a fitting example of his tendency to shut things away. When she’d asked about it, he’d claimed it was just filled with his late wife’s belongings. The curt manner in which he’d also dismissed the topic had made it clear there was no room for discussion. It saddened her that he wasn’t opening up to her as much as she was to him.

Still, she knew when to back off. She wasn’t the type to push too hard—at least not with such a fresh wound, pun intended. Despite the faint unease curling in her chest, she let the subject drop. There were battles to be fought another day.

“I get it,” she said softly, her lips curving into a small smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes. “Work can be crazy sometimes. Just…don’t let it get to you too much, okay? Stress has a way of eating people alive if you let it. It got both my parents. I don’t want the same to happen to you.” Her hand found its way to his chest, the steady rhythm of his heartbeat beneath her palm grounding her. She watched as his eyes fluttered shut at her touch, his shoulders easing just slightly, the weight of her presence momentarily lightening his burden, it seemed.

“I…I want you to know you can talk to me, Roman,” she whispered now, as though she feared scaring him off. “About anything. Alright?”

Roman’s eyes opened, but they weren’t clear—they were shadowed, distant, as if he were looking somewhere she couldn’t see. Something lurked behind them, an emotion she couldn’t quite name. For a long, silent moment, he just stared at her, his full lips pressing into a thin line.

Finally, he exhaled, his voice low and heavy. “I’ll try.”

The words felt like a fragile bridge, half-built but still offering the promise of something more. Ivy patted his chest gently, nodding, even though her heart ached with the knowledge that there were still so many walls he wasn’t ready to let down.

As she started to pull away, his arms tightened around her, the hold both firm and tender. His gaze softened, filled with a yearning that sent her pulse racing. Then, his lips met hers, and the kiss wasn’t just passionate—it was a silent apology, a plea for her forgiveness. She allowed it, savoring the moment for what felt like an eternity. By the time he pulled back, just slightly, she was breathless, her anger reduced to embers.

“Has anyone ever told you you’re a great kisser?” he teased, his voice low, his eyes burning with intent.

Ivy’s lips twitched despite herself, the teasing jab disarming her slightly. “Don’t try to charm your way out of this,” she warned, though her tone was less icy now.

“Charm’s all I’ve got,” he said with a smirk, leaning in to kiss her cheek.

Ivy exhaled shakily, her eyes searching his, the tension between them dissolving in the heat of the moment. She sighed, rolling her eyes but not pulling away. “You make it hard to stay mad at your ass, you know that?”

Roman smirked, brushing his nose against hers. “That’s the idea.”

Ivy giggled. “You’re exhausting.”

“In bed? Hell yeah,” he murmured against her skin, his voice a low growl that sent a shiver down her spine.

Ivy shook her head, smiling faintly despite herself. “You’re lucky you can fuck, Reigns.”

Roman grinned evilly, tugging her back on top of him as he crushed his lips to hers, sealing the moment with a deep, hungry kiss that spoke volumes more than his words ever could.

Ivy paced her living room, her bare feet sinking into the plush carpet as her thoughts spiraled out of control. It had been two weeks since she’d last heard from Gemini. Two long, agonizing weeks of silence. Even when they fought, they never went this long without talking. But now? There was nothing—no calls, no texts, not even a passive-aggressive email. The memory of their last argument kept replaying in Ivy’s mind like a broken record: Gemini’s sharp words, the tension overwhelmingly thick, and their meeting after that, with Ivy storming out of Gemini’s office without looking back. It was petty, childish even, but neither of them had made a move to fix it. And it didn’t sit right with her.

The pit in Ivy’s stomach grew heavier by the hour, the silence suffocating. She tried to distract herself—organizing Zaia’s schoolwork, tidying up her kitchen, even re-watching an old favorite movie. But nothing worked. The nagging thoughts wouldn’t let up.

So, she grabbed her keys. She couldn’t ignore the gnawing worry any longer. Sliding into her Kia Carnival, she drove through the quiet streets of their neighborhood, the familiar route to Gemini’s house offering little comfort.

Her fingers tightened on the steering wheel as she pulled up to the Beaufort mansion. The porch light was off, and the curtains were drawn, giving the place a hollow, almost abandoned feel.

Ivy stepped onto the porch, her breath hitching as she reached for the potted fern by the door. She found the spare key exactly where Gemini had always kept it, hidden under the dark green leaves. Her hand trembled as she unlocked the door and stepped inside.

The house was eerily still, the kind of quiet that made the hairs on the back of Ivy’s neck stand up. The faint scent of lavender hung in the air, but there was something else, too—a faint metallic tang she couldn’t quite place.

“Gem?” Ivy called out, her voice breaking the silence. It sounded small, fragile, like she was afraid of what might answer.

There was no response.

Ivy moved cautiously through the house, her eyes scanning every detail. The living room was untouched, the pillows perfectly arranged on the couch. The kitchen was eerily spotless, the countertops gleaming as if freshly wiped down. A wave of unease rolled over her. Gemini was a lawyer, but even she was never this meticulous, not unless she was trying to make an impression.

Heart pounding, Ivy made her way upstairs, her footsteps muffled on the carpeted stairs. When she pushed open the door to Gemini’s bedroom, her breath caught. The unmade bed was the first thing that stood out, the sheets tangled in a way that was so unlike Gemini, who prided herself on a pristine home. A faint breeze fluttered the curtains, but the windows were shut, amplifying the strange stillness.

And then she saw it: a piece of paper on the nightstand, folded neatly, waiting.

Ivy froze, dread tightening in her chest. Her feet felt like lead as she crossed the room and reached for the note. It was typed, the words precise and cold. Her eyes darted to the signature at the bottom—it was Gemini’s, unmistakable. But as she read the letter, the words felt alien.

I can’t do this anymore. I’m sorry to everyone I’ve hurt. I just want the pain to stop.

To my dear Ivy,

I’m sorry I pushed you away. I will miss you the most.

“What the fuck!” Ivy whispered. Her knees buckled, and she sank onto the edge of the bed, tears spilling down her cheeks. “No, no, no…”

The sobs came hard and fast, her chest heaving as she clutched the letter like it might disappear. She couldn’t bring herself to read all of it because it didn’t feel real. Gemini had always been the strong one, the vibrant one. She was the one who dragged Ivy out of her darkest moments, who never let her give up no matter how hard life got. And now? Now she was gone.

But something didn’t add up. The thought clawed its way through Ivy’s grief. If Gemini had written this note, where was she? The house was empty, devoid of any sign of her presence. There were no personal items packed, no indication of where she might have gone. It was as if she had simply vanished.

“Where are you, Gem?” Ivy whispered, staring at the bed as if it might hold the answers. Her mind raced with possibilities, each more terrifying than the last. Was Gemini even alive?

The weight of that question bore down on her, suffocating her as she sat in the silence of her best friend’s room, the unanswered questions echoing louder than any scream.

She hadn’t even realized she’d driven to Roman’s house until she was there, her heart pounding so loudly it drowned out the quiet sounds of the neighborhood. Ivy stood trembling on his doorstep, clutching Gemini’s note in one hand and Duchess in the other. The puppy whined softly, nuzzling against Ivy’s neck as though trying to absorb her pain. Thank goodness Zaia was at her friend's house and unable to see her mother's distraught state.

When Roman opened the door, his concerned expression immediately softened into something more tender at the sight of her tear-streaked face. But before he could speak, Ivy blurted, “I need your help. I need to find her!”

Roman’s brows furrowed, and he stepped closer. “Baby, what’s going on? Who are we looking for?”

“Gemini,” she stammered, her voice breaking as her body trembled. “She’s gone, Roman. I went to her place…She left this note but she’s not there and I don’t know where she is. I have to find her!”

Roman’s jaw tightened, his features hardening for a split second before he schooled his face into a mask of calm. He reached out, cupping her face with both hands. “Baby, slow down. You’re shaking. Come here.”

Ivy allowed herself to be pulled into his arms, Duchess squirming slightly between them. Roman’s embrace was warm and steady, but Ivy could feel the weight of his silence pressing down on her. She clung to him for a moment, trying to gather her spiraling thoughts, before pulling back to look up at him.

“She’s out there somewhere,” she said, her voice shaking. “She sounded so lost in the note, but this don’t feel right. Roman, I need you to help me find her. Please.”

Roman sighed, his hands sliding to her shoulders. “Baby, let’s not jump to conclusions. Maybe she just needed some space. People do that sometimes.”

“No!” Ivy insisted, shaking her head. “Not Gem. She wouldn’t leave like this, not without saying goodbye properly. And the note—it doesn’t make sense.” Her grip on Duchess tightened as tears welled in her eyes again. “I feel like something’s wrong, Roman. Please, we have to go look for her.”

Roman stared at her for a long moment, his dark eyes unreadable. He led her into the house and shut the door. “Baby girl,” he said softly, his voice calm but firm, “you’ve been through a lot. You’re exhausted, and I think that’s making this feel worse than it is. Let’s take a minute, sit down, and go over everything together.”

Ivy shook her head, stepping back from him. “We don’t have time to sit around, Roman! She could be in trouble. She could be—” Her voice cracked, and she pressed a trembling hand to her mouth.

Roman reached for her again, his large hands cradling her shoulders. “Baby, listen to me. I get that you’re worried, but running out into the night without a plan isn’t going to help. Let me take care of you first, okay? You need to breathe.”

“I don’t need to breathe!” Ivy snapped, her desperation boiling over. “I need to find my friend! Are you gonna help me or not?”

Roman’s jaw clenched, his grip on her tightening briefly before he let out a measured breath. “Of course I’ll help you, baby,” he said, his tone soft but deliberate. “I’d do anything for you. But we need to think this through. Let me make you some tea, and we’ll figure out the best way to look for her.”

Ivy hesitated, her tears streaking her face as she searched his expression for reassurance. “You promise?” she whispered, her voice small.

Roman leaned down, pressing a kiss to her lips. “I promise, baby girl. I’m here for you. Always.” He stepped back, his hand on her shoulder. “Come on,” he said gently, guiding her toward the kitchen. “You need to sit down. Let’s figure this out together.”

Ivy followed him numbly, her legs moving on autopilot as her thoughts churned. She clutched Duchess tightly, the dog’s soft whimpers a faint reminder of her reality. When they reached the kitchen, Roman pulled out a chair for her, the scrape of wood against tile sounding too loud in the stillness.

“Sit,” he urged, his voice steady but insistent.

She sank into the chair, her hands trembling as she smoothed Duchess’s fur. The note burned in her mind, its shaky words etched into her memory. It was so unlike Gemini—strong, vibrant Gemini—to write something so hopeless.

Roman leaned against the counter, his dark eyes studying her intently. His arms crossed over his chest, and the stark black of his tattoos seemed even more pronounced under the harsh kitchen light.

“What did the note say?” he asked, his tone calm but probing.

Ivy swallowed hard, her voice barely a whisper as she replied, “She said she couldn’t take it anymore. That she felt lost and alone. And…she said she was sorry for pushing me away.” Her throat tightened, and fresh tears spilled over.

Roman held out his hand. “Let me see it.”

She handed him the crumpled note, watching his face closely as he read it. His expression darkened subtly, a flicker of something unreadable crossing his features before he looked up. “And you found this where?”

“On her nightstand,” Ivy said, her voice shaky. “But she’s not there, Roman. Her car’s gone, and she’s just… vanished. It doesn’t make sense. She wouldn’t do this. She wouldn’t leave me like this.”

Roman frowned, his jaw tightening for a brief moment before his face softened again. “Maybe she…didn’t want to do it at home,” he suggested cautiously. “She might’ve gone somewhere private.”

“No!” Ivy’s voice rose, her frustration spilling over. “That’s not her! She wouldn’t just leave a note like that and disappear. Something’s wrong, Roman. I can feel it.”

Roman sighed heavily and stood in front of her, his large hands resting on her thighs. His dark eyes met hers with an intensity that made her stomach twist.

“Ivy,” he said softly, his voice low and soothing. “You’ve been through so much lately—Angelo, Zaia, work—and now this. You’re overwhelmed, baby. Your mind is running in circles, and it’s making you see things that aren’t there. Let me take care of you tonight. You need to rest.”

Ivy blinked, her resolve faltering under his steady gaze. Was she overreacting? Was her grief clouding her judgment?

“But—” she began, only to have him interrupt.

“No ‘buts,’” Roman said firmly. His hands squeezed her thighs gently before he stepped back. “We’ll figure it out, but you need to trust me. I’ll take care of you, okay?”

The reassurance in his tone eased some of the tension in her chest, though unease still lingered at the edges. “Okay,” she whispered, her voice barely audible.

Roman’s lips curved into a faint smile. He leaned down, brushing a soft kiss against her forehead. “Good girl. I’ll make us some tea,” he said, turning toward the stove.

Ivy watched him move, her mind still racing despite his calming words. Something about the way he had responded—too measured, too controlled—didn’t sit right. She wanted to shake the thought away, and blame her exhaustion and grief. But she couldn’t.

Something was not right. No matter what Roman said, she couldn’t shake the feeling that there was more to Gemini’s disappearance than the note suggested. And deep down, a tiny voice whispered a warning that she wasn’t ready to hear it.

Her gaze drifted aimlessly around the kitchen, desperate for a distraction from her spiraling thoughts. That’s when she saw it, tucked into a shadowy corner near the pantry: a vibrant tan-colored Prada tote bag.

Her breath caught in her throat.

It was Gemini’s—her favorite bag, the one she saved for special occasions and treated like it was made of gold. Ivy’s pulse quickened, her fingers freezing mid-stroke on Duchess’s fur. Why was it here? Gemini never let that bag out of her sight. Panic surged through Ivy’s chest, an icy flood that made her stomach churn.

Setting her puppy gently on the floor, Ivy’s feet moved almost on their own, carrying her to the bag. Her fingers hovered over it for a moment before grasping the worn leather strap. She turned it over in her hands, her heart sinking as her eyes landed on the unmistakable ‘G’ charm dangling from the zipper—Gemini’s signature touch. There was no doubt now. This was her best friend’s bag, here in Roman’s kitchen.

“What are you doing?”

His deep voice startled her, sharp and sudden, cutting through the tense air. Ivy jumped, clutching the bag tighter as she spun to face him. His towering frame loomed in the doorway, his expression dark and unreadable.

“This is Gemini’s bag. Why do you have it? Why is it here?” she demanded, her voice shaking. Her wide, tear-streaked eyes locked onto his, searching for an explanation, but the dark, unreadable look that flickered across his face sent a chill down her spine.

The mask of charm finally slipped. “Ivy…listen to me...”

But Ivy wasn’t listening. Her hands shook as she unzipped the bag and rifled through it, pulling out the contents one by one. There were several printouts of news articles of missing persons, Rhea and Bianca among them. One particular photo made her stomach drop into the void as she laid eyes on it.

Roman’s mugshot.

“What the hell is this?” Ivy’s voice cracked as she held it up, the other documents in her other hand.

Roman took a step toward her. “Ivy, calm down.”

She ignored him, her hands trembling as she stared at one of the headlines:

Mateo Hobbs Wanted in Connection with Multiple Murders in Florida.

The image was unmistakable—Roman, though his hair was shorter, and his beard less full. Ivy’s stomach turned, the bile threatening climbing up her throat.

“What is this?” she demanded, her voice shaking. “Who the hell are you?”

Roman’s face darkened, his jaw tightening as though he were physically restraining himself from reacting. “Baby,” he said, his voice low and deliberate, “I can explain—”

“Explain?!” Ivy’s voice rang out, sharp and filled with betrayal.

“Ivy—”

She threw the papers at him. “Tell me that’s not you! Tell me that’s not your face! You can’t, can you?”

Roman took a deliberate step toward her, his large frame cutting an imposing figure in the dim kitchen light. His large hands were raised in what he probably thought was a placating gesture, but to Ivy, it was nothing more than a threat. She backed away, her movements jerky and panicked. Duchess, standing protectively at her feet, growled low and steady, the sound vibrating through the tense air.

“Baby,” Roman said, his voice soft yet firm, as if he were speaking to a child on the verge of a tantrum. “Calm down. Let’s talk about this.”

“I let you into my house! You held my child!” she yelled, her chest heaving as her mind raced to comprehend the horrifying truth. Her voice cracked under the weight of her disbelief. “Oh my god…you and me, we…” Hot tears welled in her eyes, sick to her stomach.

“Ivy,” Roman repeated, more hostile now. “You don’t understand. Come here and let’s talk—”

“No!” Her scream was shrill, laced with fear and fury. Her hands fumbled blindly behind her as she searched for something—anything—to defend herself. Her fingers brushed against cold steel, and she wrapped them around the handle of a kitchen knife, holding it out in front of her with shaking hands.

“Stay away from me!” she yelled, the blade trembling as she brandished it. Duchess barked furiously now, the sound filling the space as she bared her teeth at Roman.

Roman’s expression flickered with anger, frustration, perhaps—but he didn’t stop. Instead, he took another step forward, his gaze fixed on Ivy.

“Put the knife down,” he said, his voice dropping to a low, commanding tone. “You don’t wanna do this, Ivy. Just listen to me.”

“Don’t come any closer or I’ll stab you!” she shrieked, her grip tightening on the knife even as her hands shook violently. Her breath came in short, ragged gasps, her heart pounding so loudly she could barely hear her own thoughts. “I mean it, I’ll-”

Roman lunged.

The world blurred into chaos as she swung the knife wildly, her instincts overtaking her terror. Their bodies collided, and the knife clattered to the floor with a metallic clang. Roman’s strength was overwhelming, his grip on her arms like iron as he wrestled her to the ground.

With a loud bark, Duchess launched herself at Roman, her teeth snapping dangerously close to his leg, but he kicked her away with brutal precision. The yelp that came from the dog sent a fresh wave of panic through Ivy’s chest.

“Duchess!” she screamed, her voice breaking as she thrashed against Roman’s hold.

“Stop fighting me!” he growled, his voice no longer calm or coaxing but sharp and commanding.

Ivy’s nails clawed at his arms, her legs kicking wildly as she tried to free herself, but Roman was too strong. He grabbed her wrists, pinning them above her head as her screams echoed through the kitchen.

“Let me go!” she cried, tears streaming down her face as she bucked beneath him, her energy rapidly depleting.

Roman’s face was inches from hers now, his breath hot against her skin. His eyes were dark, swirling with a mix of frustration and something far more dangerous.

“I don’t want to hurt you, Ivy!” he said through gritted teeth, but the menace in his tone betrayed the words.

Ivy let out one last desperate scream, thrashing with so much force that her head struck the floor hard. Pain blossomed at the back of her skull, sharp and blinding, her vision tunneling before the world around her faded to black.

Roman sat back on his knees, breathing heavily as he stared down at her limp form. His jaw twitched, and he ran a hand through his hair, muttering under his breath.

“This isn’t how it was supposed to go,” he said, his words low and tinged with frustration. He stood, lifting Ivy’s unconscious body effortlessly into his arms. Duchess growled weakly from where she lay near the corner, her movements sluggish. Roman didn’t spare the dog another glance as he carried Ivy toward the basement door, disappearing into the shadows below.

When Ivy woke, her head throbbed viciously and her vision swam with disjointed shapes. The cold concrete floor beneath her sent a chill through her body, seeping into her bones. She blinked, trying to piece together where she was and how she’d gotten there. The dim, artificial light cast long, eerie shadows across the space, and the faint, sharp scent of bleach stung her nose. But there was something else—something foul, sour, and unmistakably metallic.

Blood.

Her stomach lurched as she inhaled sharply, the nauseating scent overwhelming her senses. Ivy’s pulse raced as fragments of her memory returned.

Roman.

His shift in tone. The confrontation. And then… darkness.

Her heart pounded harder as she pushed herself onto shaky feet, her legs wobbling beneath her. She instinctively reached for the back of her head, feeling the tender knot where she must’ve been struck.

“This can’t be happening,” she whispered to herself, her voice trembling and barely audible over the oppressive silence.

The room came into focus slowly—a basement, cold and sterile, with pristine white walls that somehow felt wrong in this suffocating space. A basement that didn’t belong to her.

Roman’s.

The realization hit her like a jolt of electricity, and her breath hitched. She spun toward the only door, but it was locked. Of course, it was locked. She pressed her ear to it and froze as she heard faint, deliberate footsteps above her. He was there.

Ivy backed away from the door, her movements frantic. Her chest heaved as panic clawed at her throat. She scanned the room for any means of escape. But nothing. The basement was immaculate, eerily so, with nothing out of place except for a large barrel in the corner. No ropes. No gags. No tools. Nothing that looked like it belonged to his wife, as he’d claimed. Just her, the empty space, and the deafening sound of her own breathing.

And then she saw it.

A trapdoor, set inconspicuously into the concrete floor.

Her stomach twisted, a war raging inside her between dread and desperate hope. Could it be a way out? Or was it something worse—something she didn’t want to face?

Ivy hesitated, her heart pounding so loudly she was sure Roman could hear it from upstairs. She had to move. Had to act. The door wasn’t an option, and she couldn’t stay here waiting for him to come back.

Swallowing her fear, she crept toward the trapdoor, her breath shallow and ragged. Her hands trembled as she gripped the edge of the wood, the rough surface digging into her palms. She hesitated, every instinct in her body screaming at her to stop, to leave it closed. But her desperation overpowered her fear.

The wood creaked as she lifted it.

The smell hit her first, a nauseating wave of decay so strong it made her gag. She stumbled back, one hand covering her mouth and nose as her eyes watered. The pit below was dark, but her gaze caught something—a shape, pale and unmoving.

And then the shape became clear. Familiar.

Gemini.

A scream tore through Ivy’s throat, raw and guttural, reverberating in the empty space around her. “No! No, no, no, no, no, no!” she cried, her voice breaking, each word more desperate than the last. Tears slipped from her eyes as they locked on her best friend’s lifeless face, barely recognizable beneath the bruises and caved-in features. A long, open gash sliced through her throat, like a knife had been taken to it.

Her stomach lurched, bile rising in her throat as she tried to process the horrific sight. Her breathing was ragged, each inhale feeling sharper, heavier, as though the very act of drawing breath into her lungs was a betrayal of what she was seeing. That somehow her mind was playing tricks on her. But the light above the trapdoor cast cruel shadows on Gemini’s body, highlighting the sheer violence of what had been done to her.

What Roman had done.

“Gemini!” Ivy’s body convulsed as she collapsed beside the pit, clutching at the edge and reaching in as though this act could somehow pull her best friend back into the world of the living. Her shaking hands closed around the cold, stiff fingers that no longer curled into playful fists or reached out for hugs. Ivy’s entire frame shook with the force of her loud, hysterical cries as she clutched at Gemini’s hand, willing it to warm, to move, to hold hers back.

“Oh my god…Gem…” Her voice cracked, her words barely audible over the torrent of anguish pouring from her. “Oh god, Gemini, no, no, please, please wake up—”

The words caught in her throat, strangled by guilt and despair. She couldn’t finish. There was no point. No plea could bring Gemini back. The realization hit her like a physical blow, making her chest ache as if her heart were shattering into shards inside her ribcage.

“I’m sorry, babe, I’m so sorry,” Ivy wailed, fat teardrops splashing onto Gemini’s lifeless hand. The stark, unyielding coldness of her skin was wrong—everything about this was wrong.

Her sobs increased, her chest heaving as she cried out, “You didn’t deserve this. You didn’t deserve this!” Her voice echoed in the space, bitter and broken.

Ivy rocked back and forth, her eyes squeezing shut as if it could stop the memories from flooding in—memories of Gemini’s laugh, her hugging Zaia and tickling Duchess, her fierce loyalty, her way of making Ivy feel like everything would be okay even when it wasn’t. All of it was gone now. Snuffed out by Roman’s brutality.

And she had let him in.

The realization was like a knife to her gut, twisting and unrelenting. Her fault. All her fault. She’d seen the signs. Felt the unease in her gut. Gemini had warned her, but she hadn’t listened. She’d ignored the warnings, chosen to believe in him when she should’ve been running far, far away.

“I’m s-sorry,” Ivy wept, the words spilling out over and over like a mantra as she gripped Gemini’s hand with both of hers. “F-Forgive me, Gem. Please forgive me…”

The weight of her grief was unbearable. Slumping in a heap next to the pit, her shoulders heaved from crying. Somewhere above her, the faint creak of footsteps reached her ears, a reminder that this horrible nightmare wasn’t over. But Ivy couldn’t move. She couldn’t leave Gemini here—not like this, not alone.

She pressed her forehead to the ground, her tears soaking the cold floor. “I’ll fix this,” she sniffled, her voice hoarse and trembling. “I swear to God, Gem. I’ll make this right. I’ll—” Her voice broke, the words dissolving into another gut-wrenching cry.

The silence in the room was deafening now, save for her choked sobs. The world felt darker, heavier, like it had shifted irreparably. Because it had. Gemini was gone. And Ivy wasn’t sure she could survive the hole that had just been carved into her soul.

The sound of heavy footsteps descending the stairs snapped Ivy out of her daze. Her heart raced as she released Gemini’s hand and scrambled to her feet, backing away from the trapdoor. Her body trembled, cold terror coursing through her veins.

Roman appeared, carrying a large, barrel-like tank similar to the one that sat in the corner of the basement. His broad frame filled the space, and the calm expression on his face made Ivy’s stomach twist in revulsion.

“I see you've found her,” he said casually, as if discussing something mundane, his tone unsettlingly smooth.

Ivy’s breath hitched, and her voice came out in a trembling shriek. “What did you do?!” she screamed, her hysteria bubbling over. “What did you do, you monster!”

Roman’s dark eyes flicked to her, and for a moment, something like disappointment crossed his face. But he didn’t answer. Instead, he turned his attention to the trapdoor, kneeling down and pulling it open fully.

“What are you doing?!” Ivy cried, her voice breaking. “Roman, stop! Please! Don’t—don’t touch her!” She stumbled forward instinctively, her hand outstretched, afraid to get close.

Roman didn’t stop. He bent down with deliberate precision and gripped Gemini’s body, hauling her up with a disturbing amount of strength and lack of hesitation. Ivy gagged, her knees threatening to give out as he moved the corpse with chilling efficiency.

“Stop it! Don’t do this!” Ivy cried, tears streaming down her face. “Please, Roman, I’m begging you! Leave her alone! Stop!” Her voice cracked, raw and desperate, but he didn’t even glance her way.

Instead, he began forcing Gemini’s limp form into the tank. The sound of bones snapping and joints dislocating filled the air, each crack a horrific reminder of his strength—and his cruelty. Ivy pressed her hands over her ears, crying uncontrollably as she backed against the wall. She couldn’t look away, no matter how much she wanted to. Every fiber of her being screamed to run, to fight, to do something, but her legs wouldn’t obey.

Roman worked methodically, his movements almost clinical, as though this was just another chore to complete. He didn’t speak, didn’t react to Ivy’s pleas. It was as if she wasn’t even there. Her sobs filled the silence, broken only by the grotesque sounds of his work. And all she could do was watch as the man she once thought she loved continued to unveil the monster he truly was.

“Why?” she begged, “Why are you doing this?”

Roman twisted the lid of the barrel closed and turned to face her. “They didn’t understand me like you do,” he explained, his voice almost tender as he glanced at her. “I didn’t want to kill them, hell, I ain’t even plan to…but Angelo was in the way, and Gemini…she just wouldn’t stop digging…”

For a moment, Ivy couldn’t breathe. Her chest tightened, her vision blurred, and the room spun. She blinked rapidly, hoping—praying—that she’d misheard him. But the look on his face, calm and unrepentant, told her otherwise.

“You…what do you mean you killed Angelo?” she whispered, her voice cracking.

Roman tilted his head slightly, as if her disbelief confused him. “He was holding you back, baby,” he said simply, his tone almost matter-of-fact. “Every time I saw him with you, I knew he’d never let us be happy. And Zaia deserves a father who loves her, who loves you.”

Ivy stumbled back, pressing herself against the cold concrete wall. “Oh god. Oh god, oh fuck…” The words tumbled out of her in a broken chant, her hands clutching at her chest as if trying to hold her heart together.

Roman took a step closer, his hands spread in a placating gesture. “Ivy, listen to me. I did it for us. For our future. Don’t you see?”

But she couldn’t hear him over the blood roaring in her ears. Memories of Angelo flooded her mind—the way he used to playfully lift Zaia onto his shoulders, how his laugh would echo through the house during family dinners. Yes, he had his faults. He was stubborn, controlling at times, and their relationship had ended messily. But he was Zaia’s father. He was her child’s father!

“I can’t believe this!” she cried, her voice rising in hysteria. She sank to her knees, clutching her head as tears poured down her face. “Angelo stressed me out, but I never wanted him dead! He was Zaia’s father! How could you—how could you take him away from her?!”

“Ivy,” he said, his tone low and coaxing, as though she were a frightened animal. “I know this is hard to hear, but Angelo was a piece of shit. He wasn’t good for you. He didn’t treat you the way you deserved. And Zaia? She’s better off without a man like him in her life.”

“Fuck you!” Ivy screamed, her voice cracking under the weight of her anguish. “You don’t get to decide that! You don’t get to play God with our lives!”

Roman’s jaw tightened, his expression darkening for a split second before softening again. “Baby girl,” he said, his voice almost soothing. “I’m protecting you. I’m protecting Zaia. You both deserve so much more than he could ever give. What’s a measly fucking house and some necklace when I can give you ten houses? A hundred necklaces? He was the bare minimum and you deserve more.”

“You’re sick,” Ivy hissed, her voice shaking with raw emotion. “You’re fucking insane!”

Her words seemed to pierce through Roman’s calm façade. For a moment, his face hardened, his jaw clenching as he stared at her. Then, just as quickly, his expression shifted back to one of calculated composure.

“I know you’re upset,” he said, his tone gentle but firm. “But one day, you’ll understand. You’ll see that everything I’ve done was for you—for us.” He swallowed hard, emotion clouding his features, “Because I love you, Ivy. I love you so much.”

Ivy let out another guttural sob, her body wracked with uncontrollable tremors. She pressed her hands to her face, trying to block out the sight of him, the sound of his voice. The man she had trusted, the man she had thought she was in love with, had taken Gemini and Angelo from her.

From Zaia.

The realization hit her like a physical blow, stealing the air from her lungs. Her baby would grow up without her father—not because of a tragic accident, but because Roman had stolen him away. And he had the fucking nerve to stand there, calm and unbothered, as though he’d done her a favor as opposed to destroying her and her daughter’s life.

Roman crouched down in front of her, his large frame blocking out the dim light. He reached out as if to comfort her, but Ivy recoiled, her entire body rattling with fury and grief. “Don’t touch me!” she choked out, her voice raw and trembling. “Get away from me!”

He hesitated, his hand hovering in the air before slowly retracting. He stood, his towering figure casting a long shadow over her trembling form.

“You may hate me right now,” he said softly, “But deep down, you know I’m right. I’ll give you time to see that.”

Ivy didn’t respond. She couldn’t. All she could do was curl into herself, her sobs echoing through the cold, sterile basement as the horrifying truths engulfed her like a vulture swooping in on its prey.

Thanks for all your support last year! Your replies and reblogs are so much appreciated! Please keep your Asks coming, we’re loving all the theories!

Roman gif by @dejameflorecer

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#roman reigns #roman reigns fanfiction #the boy next door #tbnd #roman reigns smut #roman reigns fanfic #roman reigns angst #the bloodline #roman reigns x black oc #roman reigns x black reader #roman reigns x reader #roman reigns x oc

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sunny44 · 2 years ago

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I promised you

Pairing: Charles Leclerc x fiancée!reader

Warnings: mentions of Charles father, google translated French

Summary: Charles and Y/n have known each other since they were kids, the relationship grows and they’re about to get married. The wedding day is already very emotional but Charles does something to makes everything way better.

The part in italics is the flashback.

Married.

That’s what is was getting today.

Charles and I have known each other all our lives, we have been best friends since we were kids.

We have been dating since forever, had all our first times with each other, and I believe we are soul mates.

I remember the first time we met and also the first time he said we would get married. We were 7 years old at the time and he was playing with his Ferraris cars while I was organizing my bracelets in a little box that I had gotten from his mother.

"Charles, give me back." I kept trying to get the bracelet but every time I got close he took it off. "Charlie."

"I'm not giving it back."

"It's my favorite bracelet, you'll ruin it."

"I'm only giving it back to you when we get married."

"That will take a long time, we're small yet."

"Then when we get bigger we'll get married and then I'll give you the bracelet back." I huffed giving up taking it and sat back down on the fluffy carpet in the living room.

"You look so beautiful." My mother says behind me fixing my veil.

"Thank you mom."

In the room where I was getting ready was my mom, Charles' mom, Lily, Lorenzo's girlfriend Charlotte, Arthur's girlfriend Carla, and Elena.

"You had already looked beautiful when we went to pick the dress but you look perfect now" Charlotte says and smiles at them.

"Do you guys really think it looks good?”

"Of course, you are the most beautiful bride I have ever seen. You look like came straight out of a bridal magazine." Lily holds my hand and smiles.

"It will all work out, you are perfect for each other."

I start to get nervous and tears start to come out of my eyes and the anxiety starts to make me breathless.

"Honey, breathe."

"Can I talk to him? Please." My mother agrees and they all leave the room leaving me alone.

"Babe." I hear his voice from the door.

"Hi."

"Are you okay, your mom said you wanted to talk to me."

"I'm getting nervous and out of breath." He opens a crack in the door and puts his hand inside.

"Hold my hand." He says and at the same time I take his hand intertwining our fingers. "Now take a deep breath."

I started to take a deep breath and dried up tears with a handkerchief.

"It will be okay, in a little while you will walk down the aisle and I will be there waiting for you and crying from seeing how beautiful you will look." I laughed at his line. "I love you and nothing is going to change that so just take a deep breath and I promise I will be there waiting for you, I’m not going anywhere."

We stood there for about 10 more minutes until he had to go because the time was coming, I heard a knock on the door and allowed the entrance watching Pescale enter.

"Your father is already waiting so I won't take up too much of your time, not least because I am anxious for you to marry my baby boy." I laughed at her anxiety and she took my hands. "I know it's your wedding but I wanted to ask you something."

"Sure."

"When Harvé and I got married I gave him this gold watch and I wanted to ask you to take it down the aisle with you and give it to Charles, we both know how much he wanted his father to be here to see this and I wanted him to have a part of his father along with him." And once again I was crying. "I dear don’t cry, you'll ruin your makeup.”

"I will, I will." I smiled and she dried my tears.

"Thank you, dear. And thank you for taking such good care of him."

"Thank you for making him." She laughs.

"Ready?" my father appears in the doorway and I agree. "You look so beautiful."

"Thanks dad."

...

We were positioned waiting for the door to open, I was with my arm intertwined with my father's when the music started to play, Charlie didn't know but I had chosen AUS23 to play while I enter and I could see his surprised face with the music but soon his look of or on me and I could see the most beautiful smile I’ve e er seen in my life.

Everyone was standing as I walked over to him, when we got there my father shook his hand and whispered something before handing me over to Charles.

"You look beautiful." He says and I smile.

"You look beautiful too." I hold his hand and hand the watch to Charles who instantly recognized it and looked at his mother who smiled. "I know you really wish he was here because I feel the same way, but I know he is taking care of us and that he is happy."

“I'm sure of it."

And then the priest starts with the usual speech.

"I Charles Marc Harvé Perceval Leclerc take you, Y/n Y/l/n as my lawful wife. To love and respect you, in sickness and in health, in wealth and in poverty until death do us part."

“I Y/n Y/l/n take you, Charles Marc Harvé Perceval Leclerc as my lawful wedded husband. To love and respect you, in sickness and in health, in wealth and in poverty till death do us part."

"I pronounce you husband and wife, you may kiss the bride." At this he holds my face kissing me and I could hear the shouts of celebration from everyone making me smile in the middle of the kiss.

"I have something to give you." He says as soon as he separates but with his forehead still glued to mine. "Here."

He pulls something from his wrist and I see that same bracelet he stole from me years ago.

"Charlie."

"I said I'd give it back when we got married and I keep my promises." I smiled through tears as he taped it to my wrist. “And when I said to you that I’m not going anywhere I mean it. You are the love of my life and I love you with all my heart.

“I love you more Charlie and I can’t wait to spend the rest of my life by your side.” He smiles taking my hand next and we walked to the exit of the church to finally start ours lives together.

Bonus scene!

Y/nleclerc instagram post

Liked by @charlesleclerc and other 1938292

@y/nleclerc and here are some of my favorite pictures of the best day of my life, I still can’t believe it that your my husband and that were going to spend the last of our lives together.

I can’t wait to start our family and to grow old with you, you are the best thing that ever happened to me and I’m thankful everyday for you.

Je t'aime pour toujours Charlie (I love you forever Charlie).

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daisynik7 · 1 year ago

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[F4M] You Leave a Naughty Voicemail for Your Husband While He Works Overtime [Established Relationship][Mutual Masturbation][Car Sex][Sub to Soft Dom][Breeding Kink][Mating Press][No Thoughts][Brain Empty][Just Fucking]

Read Part 1 here!

Pairing: husband!Nanami x f!reader

Rating: Explicit - MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

Word Count: ~3.6k

cw: established relationship, p*rn without plot, smut – PIV sex (cowgirl, missionary, mating press, doggy), mutual masturbation, mentions of sex toys, edging, blowjob, car sex, clitoral stimulation, spanking, some spit play, breeding kink, multiple orgasms, dirty talk, pet names (sweetie, sweetheart, honey, princess, baby, good girl/boy), slight degradation kink

Summary: You record a naughty voicemail for your husband while he works overtime, leaving him yearning for more. Author’s Note: Hiya friends! Breaking my tumblr hiatus temporarily to post this. Consider this a sequel/part 2 to my other fic inspired by more NSFW audio. Someone gave me the idea to do a fic with the roles reversed, so here it is! Had a blast writing this, so I hope you enjoy! Bonus: here are some NSFW audios that inspired it (of course, they’re AugustInTheWinter): Link 1, Link 2 (reddit links, 18+). Likes, comments, and/or reblogs are always appreciated, thanks so much for reading! Header image from the manga On Doorstep (it's BL and the MC looks like Nanami, I highly recommend). MDNI banner created by @/mikeykuns.

It’s past eleven when Nanami steps out of the conference room with the rest of his colleagues, having just finished the last team meeting of the day. He was asked to work overtime to help fix any remaining issues before the end of the fiscal year, which is in a few days. Normally, he’d never agree to this, but with your wedding anniversary approaching in a month, he wants the extra income to buy you that gold chain bracelet you’ve had an eye on.

With all his tasks complete for the day, he can finally leave. He gathers his belongings, checking his phone to see the missed call and voicemail you left him about an hour ago. She must be asleep already, he thinks, not bothering to call you back. When he gets in his car, he props his phone to the mount, ready to listen to your voicemail on Bluetooth while he drives home. He presses play as soon as he pulls out from his parking spot.

“Kento.” Your voice is hushed and breathy. “I miss you.”

Nanami clenches his jaw, already aroused by your sultry tone. He grips the steering wheel tighter, glancing at the phone screen to check the length of the voicemail: three minutes. That’s the limit before it cuts you off. And while the ride home is a mere ten, he has a feeling it will be excruciatingly long by the way this message is already playing.

You sigh. “I miss you so much, Kento.” There’s rustling in the background; Nanami imagines that you’re turning over in bed, under the covers. What are you wearing right now? The cute flannel pajamas he bought you two years ago for Valentine’s Day? Or the lingerie set you purchased yourself to surprise him for your most recent anniversary? At this rate, for his own sanity, he’s not sure which one he prefers.

“I can’t wait till you get home, honey. I’m so…” Your voice is heavy with lust; he can see the provocative face you’re making as you squeeze the phone to your ear, reaching between your legs to that throbbing pussy. “I’m so horny right now. I wish you were here.” If he listens closely, he can hear the squelch of fingers flicking your clit rapidly. “But since you’re not, is it okay if I touch myself?”

He’s tempted to slam on the gas and fly through the city to get to you in record time. Break all driving violations and his own personal morals to watch you play with yourself. It’s torture, sitting behind this red light, following the rules, listening to you moan into the phone, so needy and desperate for his cock. What’s worse is that you’re ovulating this week; he knows how pent up you must be from his absence tonight. Fertile and in heat, that wet sloppy cunt begging to be filled with his seed. He promised he’d make it up to you tomorrow morning, but why waste this perfectly good opportunity? Especially when you’re practically begging for it.

“Remember how good you fucked me last night? How you pinned me down by the wrists? How tightly I squeezed my legs around you as you pumped me full of cum?” It’s all Nanami thought about when he wasn’t focused on work today. Enough to force him into the men’s room to jerk himself off, fantasizing about it. Replaying your wanton moans ringing in his ears, the way your body convulsed around him, that adorably dumb expression on your face while you were getting fucked into oblivion. Normally, he’d be ashamed of himself at how lewd he was being in a work setting, but the memory of you was too irresistible, even for him.

He’s not usually perverse like this, but something about you drives him crazy. His hands are typically at 10-and-2, the correct position to steer the wheel. But just this once, he deems it necessary to lose his prim and proper attitude. He drops one into his lap to unbuckle his belt, unzip his pants, and reach down to palm his cock through his briefs. It’s enough to gain a bit of relief from this torment, at least until he’s safely home. Nanami wipes the sweat beading on his brow, accelerating too hard when the light finally switches to green, keeping his grip steady as he strokes his cock, listening intently to your voice surrounding him in the car.

“Are you hard right now, Kento?” There’s more movement in the background, as if you’re opening and shutting a drawer. Blood rushes into his cheeks, predicting exactly what you’re about to do. “Do you like listening to me touch myself?” There’s a familiar hum now, and he visualizes the pink vibrator buzzing in your hand, the fluttering tip teasing your swollen clit. He’d do anything to teleport directly into the bedroom and have his way with you.

“I’m so lonely in this bed without you. I’m fucking myself, thinking about you. Wishing it’s you instead of this stupid toy. Can you hear it, sweetie?”

“Yes,” he answers to no one, shoving his underwear down to release his erection, stroking himself faster with his right fist. He’s forced to stop again; how many fucking streetlights does this goddamn city need anyways?! It’s excruciating.

“My pussy is aching for your big cock.” The buzzing intensifies; you’ve increased the setting one level, on the verge of an orgasm. Typical behavior of his obedient slut of a wife. He loves sliding his fingers inside while you press the vibrator deeper into your clit. He’s obsessed with the way you gush around him, clenching him tighter, addicted to how it tastes on his tongue when he slides those cum-coated digits into his mouth.

“Hurry home, honey. I’m waiting for you. This pussy is already so wet for you. I’m going to use you as my sex toy tonight.”

“Fuck, I want that. I really want that,” Nanami moans in response, releasing his cock from his grasp, thighs fidgeting from arousal.

“You love it when I use you, huh? Love it when I fuck you silly until you’re milked dry.”

He groans, bucking his hips into nothing in the seat, briefly losing control of the wheel, causing the car to swerve. “Fuck, I love it, sweetie. I love it. Please.” He’s not sure what he’s begging for. All he knows is that if he doesn’t get home soon, he’ll combust, taking the car down with him.

“Fuck, Kento. I’m thinking about how deep you hit it from behind. Slapping my ass, treating me like a bad girl, pounding your hips into me like a fucking animal. I get so fucking cock drunk off you. Makes me want to come just talking about it.”

“Then come for me, baby,” he blurts out, fully aware he’s talking to a recording. He’s completely lost it now.

“Ah, I’m close. I – ” you interrupt yourself with your own whimpers. Nanami listens as he cruises past the speed limit now, wiping the bead of precum at the tip of his cock with his thumb, edging himself. It’d be a shame for him to waste his load onto his lap. He’s going to give you every fucking drop he has. Build it up so that your pussy is flooding with his hot, sticky mess.

You whine loudly, “I’m coming, Kento. Ah, I’m coming for you.” You moan into the phone, and Nanami has to release himself to prevent from orgasming too, Then, there’s silence on your end, except for your staggered breaths and occasionally rustling of the sheets beneath you. Eventually, the voicemail ends without another word, and he assumes that you’ve fallen asleep. He smiles to himself, imagining you, his gorgeous wife, with your legs splayed out, vibrator loosely gripped, completely knocked out on the bed.

He replays the voicemail, continuing to edge himself until he finally pulls into their driveway, opening the garage. He parks, shutting off the ignition, then searches the backseat for the box of tissues, wanting to clean up whatever mess he’s made. Before he gets the chance to, the door leading inside swings open, and it’s you, standing in the door frame in a sheer lingerie nightgown. The same one he expected you’d be wearing tonight.

He swallows hard, cock still out, stiffer than ever, watching you step towards the driver’s side, bright face peering through the window. You glance to his lap, noticing the lewd sight.

You tap on the glass, feigning innocence. “Kento?”

He opens the door slowly, face flushed, eyes half-lidded in a daze. “Sweetheart, please.”

His slacks have been shoved off haphazardly down his legs, engorged cock sprung against his abdomen, precum leaking out the tip. His cheeks are pink, hair tousled, forehead dewy with sweat. You smirk at him, pleased to see that he’s listened to your voicemail. “Oh, honey. Look at you. Have you been a bad boy?” You surround him with your fingers, jerking him slowly. He twitches at your touch, sensitive and aching in your fist.

He shakes his head, shutting his eyes closed as you stroke him. “No,” he stutters, “I’ve been very good.”

You inspect the car, realizing what he’s trying to convey to you; he hasn’t come yet. “Oh, baby,” you coo, squeezing his cock in your fist. “You’ve been very, very good. My good boy.”

He nods this time, leaning forward for a kiss. “Yes, I’m a good boy for you. I’m your good boy,” he huffs through gritted teeth. Nanami isn’t normally like this, so submissive and needy. But tonight, he has zero hesitation; he’s begging to be dominated, to be used and toyed with.

You lick into his mouth, nipping at his bottom lip. “Do you want your reward now? Or should we go inside first?”

He won’t last much longer, so he spits out, “Now. Please.”

You smirk, kissing him messily, tongues swirling, swapping spit while his dick pulsates in your palm. “Fuck,” he groans, rocking his hips into you. “I’m going to come if you keep – ” he chokes on his saliva, unable to finish his sentence.

You giggle, nibbling at his ear lobe. “If I do what, baby?” You want to tease him a bit more, so you bend over his lap, kneeling on the bottom frame of the car, sinking down on him with your mouth. He throws his head back against the headrest, swearing loudly. You blow him until his cock is lubricated with your spit and he’s squirming above you, ready to burst.

He pulls you off him abruptly, tugging you towards him. “I can’t,” he urges, completely red now, all frenzied and flustered. “Please, I can’t take it anymore.”

Giggling, you swing your leg over him, straddling his lap and smooching his forehead. “Alright, honey. I tormented you enough.” You’re not wearing any panties beneath your nightgown, so when you start to rub yourself on his shaft, his eyes widen in surprise, staring at you, sputtering a mix of curses and nonsense.

You grin, kissing him softly, rocking yourself along his length. “I told you, didn’t I? This pussy is so wet for you. I’ve been prepping myself all night, thinking about you.”

“Fuck, I’m going to come. Put it in, sweetheart. Hurry.”

You guide him in you easily until he bottoms out, sitting on him without moving, licking into his mouth. His hands slide around your hips, holding you tenderly, staying still, melting into your kiss. Before you can start bouncing on him, he squeezes you, huffing, “I’m coming.”

His dick pulsates, spurting his hot seed deep inside you. You continue to kiss him, smiling against his lips, pleased and satisfied. When he’s finished, you graze his ear. “Good boy.”

“Fuck,” he mutters, brows knit together, eyes shut tight. He opens one to peek at you, embarrassed. “This is your fault.” The blush on his face cascades along his neck. “You knew this would happen when you left me that voicemail.”

Laughing, you give him a smooch on his cheek. “You’re right. I was being bad tonight. Are you going to punish me for it?” You tug at his tie, loosening it on his collar, trailing his chest to unbutton his dress shirt.

He relaxes, smirking as he slaps your ass with his palm, cupping the flesh immediately after. You whine his name at the contact, nuzzling into his neck. “Ah, Kento.”

“Bad girls deserve to be punished,” he growls, low and wicked, delivering a fresh smack to the other side. His cock is erect again inside you, stuffing you full once more. “You’re going to take this cock until I can’t get hard anymore. Understand?” He rocks you back and forth on him, thumb pressed at your clit, rubbing small circles. “Until this slutty little cunt is so full of my cum.”

You nod silently, clinging to his shoulders, body trembling with arousal. The switch in demeanor, from him begging you for sweet release to now being domineering and cocky, has you titillating for more. He chuckles, wrapping you in snug embrace, kissing the top of your head. “Look at you, darling. You’re shaking. Let’s go to the bedroom, okay princess?” And his ability to turn on this sweet charm has you softening in his arms, pliant and ready to be played with.

Soon, you’re inside your bedroom, legs spread wide, some residual cum trickling down the inside of your thighs. He strips his remaining clothes off, cock unbelievable rigid in his fist, jerking himself off to the sight of you in your transparent lingerie, his load leaking from your slit.

“You’re a fucking slut for getting me worked up like this,” he grunts, hovering over you, tapping the tip of his dick on your swollen clit. “I edged myself the entire drive, saving all this cum for you.”

You bite your lip, holding back the guttural, animalistic moan escaping from within your throat. His confession has you quaking, eager to be filled even more to the brim with his seed, eager to be bred. You can blame it on the fact that you’re currently in heat, or that you’re just this much in love with your husband that you can’t think of anything else you want more in this moment than to be connected with him. You grip the sheets below you, fanning your thighs impatiently, waiting for his cock. “Breed me, honey. Fuck all your cum inside me. I want all of it, every single drop. Hurry.”

Oh how quickly do the roles reverse.

He slides his cock inside you, his own cum coating it as he pulls out slightly, observing the lewd scene. “Look at how full you are, and it’s still not enough. Such a greedy cum slut.” He spits a frothy wad of his saliva onto your clit, smearing it with his thumb. “You’re going to come on this cock before I give you anything. Got it?”

You nod, closing your eyes, turning your head to the side, losing yourself to the pleasure rippling through your body as he pounds into your pussy, the sensation so intense it resonates all the way down to your toes. He’s so mean, so unlike his usual doting self when he’s in this mood, and you can’t help but succumb to it. He tips your chin back towards him. “Look at it,” he demands. You open your eyes, his expression wild, fucking you faster, his thumb working your clit ruthlessly. “Watch me fuck this messy cunt.” He grips you behind the legs, hoisting you so that your knees are towards your chest, holding you into a mating press. Unable to contain it any longer, you moan loudly, grabbing at your own ankles to keep yourself spread wide for him as he thrusts in and out of you relentlessly.

“This is what you wanted, isn’t it sweetheart? To be fucked and pounded by me instead of that silly toy. To use me and milk me dry of every last drop. You asked for this. This is what you get for being so fucking naughty.” He rests one of your legs onto his shoulder, turning to smooch the side of your knee, sucking on your skin.

You continue to moan his name until it’s reduced into a blubber of incoherent cries as you’re pushed over the edge, reaching your climax. “That’s it, come on my cock, princess. That’s a good girl.” Still, he doesn’t ease up; in fact, he fucks you harder, spurred by your orgasm, intent on chasing another. “Just keep taking it, okay beautiful? I know you can do it.” He pounds you into the mattress, the bed creaking noisily beneath you with each solid thrust, perspiration dripping from his body onto yours. You’re no longer thinking clearly; everything is in a haze, blissful and euphoric, only your husband on your brain. He’s fucked all other thoughts out of you. Has you obsessed with his cock, hungry for his cum, keen on him to breed your fertile womb.

“Fuck, Kento, right there! Right there!” you cry out, grasping his hair between your fingers, pulling him in for a sloppy kiss.

“Right there, huh?” he teases, slowing his pace to thrust deep into your G-spot, nails digging into the flesh of your hips. “Always taking me so fucking deep.” He grabs your wrist, placing your hand at your clit. “Touch yourself while I fuck you. Squirt on my cock like a good little slut.”

You obey him, flicking your sensitive bud with your middle finger while he watches intently, another orgasm fast approaching. You twitch around him, pleasure overtaking your entire body, sending a rush of ecstasy that has you seeing stars.

Of course, it still isn’t enough for him. Not after what you put him through earlier. “Turn over,” he mutters, pulling out, cum spilling onto the sheets. “You know what to do.”

He’s right; it’s second nature to you now, to throw your ass back and fuck yourself with his cock. All he has to do is kneel behind you with his hard dick out while you swallow him whole, pumping it in and out of your pussy. It doesn’t matter how pliant you feel, or how fucked out you are, tongue lolling out of your mouth, drool leaking from the sides of your lips. You know exactly what to do to get what you want out of him.

You can feign innocence all you want, pretend to be shocked when he manhandles you like a fucking rag doll, slamming his hips into you, wet slaps bouncing off the walls of your bedroom. Shrieking when he presses his rough fingers to your swollen clit. Burying your face into the pillow, muffling your shameless moans and shrieks of, “Fuck me, fuck me, fuck me!” This is what you intended when you spread your legs earlier, phone in your hand, ready to leave that filthy voicemail for him, knowing he’d listen on his way home. Knowing he’d save all his cum for you because you’re ovulating, and he wants more than anything to get you pregnant. Knowing he’d want to fuck you into a frenzy regardless, always desperate to empty his load inside you. It’s what you want because you know he wants it too. That’s what makes it even better, knowing your husband is as feral for you as you are for him.

“Fuck, I’m close,” he whispers, voice wavering.

Craning your neck to face him, you murmur, “Want to see you.”

He smiles, pulling out, your pussy fluttering around the emptiness, already eager to be filled again. “I want to see you too, my love.” He flips you over, pushing your knees towards your ears into a deeper mating press, kissing you sweetly on the lips. You wrap your arms around him, whining his name into his ear as he fucks you rough, the bed frame precariously shifting with each plunge of his cock.

“Fuck, I’m coming,” he groans, cock twitching and spurting every hot pulse inside you. “Take all of my cum, sweetheart. All of it,” he mutters, forehead pressed to yours. “I love you. I love you so much.”

When he finishes, he lowers your legs slowly, rolling beside you to cradle you in his arms. You nestle into his chest, listening to his steadying heartbeat. “Are you okay, sweetie?” he asks, massaging small circles into your back.

You nod against him, remaining silent, too drained to even respond with words. He lets you rest like this for a moment before hopping off the bed, stepping into the bathroom, rummaging through the cupboards. Shortly after, he returns to you with a container of baby wipes in hand and a glass of water in the other.

You’re a mess down there, sleek, wet, and gushing with slick. He kneels beside you, wiping your forehead first from sweat. You peer up at him, smiling, cupping his cheek. “Thank you,” you mouth to him. With another, he cleans your hands, then your legs, always glancing at you to make sure you’re still doing fine. You’re truly grateful for having a spouse as attentive and as caring as your husband, who, despite his typically stoic disposition, always dotes on you so sweetly.

Done cleaning you up, he traces the outline of your lips with his thumb, saying, “Drink water, honey.”

You grumble at him, pretending to be asleep. He chuckles, leaning in closer for a kiss. “And go pee.”

You peek at him with one eye open, nuzzling your nose to his. “Okay, fine. But after you hold me for one more minute.”

He smiles, sliding his arms around you. “Anything you want, sweetheart. Anything you want.”

#nanami smut #nanami kento #kento nanami #kento nanami smut #nanami kento smut #nanami x reader #nanami x you #nanami x y/n #nanami x f!reader #nanami x fem!reader #jjk smut #jujutsu kaisen smut #jjk x reader #nanami fanfic #jjk nanami #husband!nanami #n.sfw links

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bobardo · 5 months ago

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i NEED to hear your thoughts on reader's arguments with boxer!carmy. what's their first argument about? who usually caves first?

you, anon, are a hero and a scholar and are about to receive the greatest blurb in the history of the the tumblr industry (pls someone understand this reference 😭😭)

BUT IT ALL SERIOUSNESS, this is fucking gold; i love you for sending this.

tw!! ooooohh they get into it yall. carmen being a man (ik, i’m sorry). some suggestive content. happy ending.

bf boxer!carmy and reader fighting!!

concept 1. concept 2. bf boxer!carmy hcs.

ok, so, me thinks bf boxer!carmy and his pretty broad actually argue a lot. so often it teeters just on the edge of being unhealthy. but, they also know each other and realize they’re two petty asf ppl (😭😭). so, even though they argue often, it’s usually over stupid shit, or their little fears (like who was supposed to wash the dishes that night, or how carmy’s profession holds a great deal of power over his life, enough to take it away—

she tries hard not to think about it too much; that argument is a losing game).

if carmy’s being frank, it’s half the reason he’s so fucking obsessed in love with her. she’s feisty—she’s trouble, and carmy’s never been good at staying out of it, even before he was the one starting the fights.

however…

when they fight—oh boy! do they fight.

i’d like to think bf boxer!carmy has a hugeeeee jealousy problem (lil insecure loser ☹️🫶🏽), and so that’s usually how their more heated fights begin.

i think their very first BIG fight has to do with a mix of his jealousy issue and the nature of how their relationship came to be.

allow me to set the scene:

so carmy wins the fight against timmy boy (surprise??) and starts talking to his pretty broad, finds out her and timmy aren’t exclusive, just messing around, and takes the green light.

a few weeks go by and everything is going smoothly—you know, the usual, extravagant dates and expensive gifts, lots of pampering and affection from both ends; the rose-hued, honeymoon stage—and carmy invites her as his plus one to some big party/event for his job.

he knocks on the front door of her apartment at 7:15 pm on the dot with a stunning bouquet—baby’s breath and lilies and anemones—of flowers in his right hand. he’s dressed to the nines; a fitted black tux—double breasted, with peak lapels, and slightly high-waisted trousers—and a brown dress-shirt, first thee to four buttons undone (whore 🥸) with a black chiffon, nearly iridescent slip over it that makes that same brown look an earthy, rich green at a swift glance. one gold bracelet, one gold ring for each hand (middle and pinky fingers), his unnecessarily attractive little gold hoop earrings, and a simple gold crucifix hangin’ ‘round his neck.

he raps his busted knuckles against the door with his left hand, and then patiently leans against the frame and awaits the telltale sign of her heels against the hardwood floors.

he counts to seventeen before her front door is swinging open.

the first thing he notices is that smile (that smile, the one she only ever gives to him—not eddie (god forbid), or nacho, or benny, or fucking timmy—just him). pearly whites, with bow and cherry gems (i loveeee teeth gems if my pfp didn’t make that clear), on display, framed by those plump, painted lips—brown liner, blackberry pink lipstick, and a nice, shiny gloss—that never seem to leave his head; burned into his memory, melded to his mind.

his eyes drop to the baby pink toes he’s become far too fond of, the white strap and silver chain of her dior heels placed prettily over top. flits his appraising gaze up to her ankles, the left one wrapped in the anklet he gifted her on their fourth date, a (boxing) glove charm hanging from the gold link. up—up, up, up—they go, trailing the soft ruffles and tedious buttons lining her long sleeve knit dress, hem hitting just at her shin, tight fitting—cinched to her figure—with a swoop neckline that shows off just the right amount of cleavage.

he stops when his eyes find hers again, brown sugar and saccharine.

he pushes off the door frame and steps through, ‘til they’re standing toe to toe and her head is awkwardly bent backward so she can keep eye contact.

“hi, bear,” she chirps, soft and taunting. grins at him while her jewel adorned hands slide up the smooth lapels of his tux.

the left corner of his mouth kicks up into a smirk as he snakes his left arm around her waist, dragging her closer.

his head spins with the scent of cinnamon and evergreen, and he wants to nuzzle in her neck because of it.

“hey, cub,” he rumbles back, and neither of them acknowledge the way she practically melts into her, she just curls her fingers into his lapels, and he tightens his hold on her waist.

she looks at the flowers in his right hand, “those for me?”

carmy turns his head to look at the flowers, lifts his hand with a noisy crinkle to present ‘em to her.

still, he shakes his head, puts on his best poker face and huffs, “nah, i’m taking that real pretty broad down the hall on a date tonight. just dropping in to say ‘hi’.”

her grin drops, face flat, eyes narrowed.

she unfurls her fists from his jacket, starts pushing him away, out from where he came.

“well, since we’ve finished swapping pleasantries—”

this time when he huffs, he’s huffing out a laugh, “i’m kidding. hey, baby, i’m kidding. swear.” he drops the flowers (unimportant; he can get more if she really wants them) to the ground at the side of their feet and wraps his other arm around her waist, crowding her space, barely giving her room to breathe, let alone slip from his grasp.

she wriggles in his hold, still shoving uselessly at his firm chest. “carmen, let go—”

and, well he’s definitely in trouble, but there’s not much to be done about that now, is there?

he takes both her tiny, pounding fists and locks them behind her back in one fell swoop “never. now look at me.”

she looks into the hallway, just over his shoulder, to piss him off.

his eye threatens to twitch.

“look at me, cub. don’t make me say it again.”

she rolls her brown sugar eyes, but does thereafter shift her gaze to look at him. raises an impatient brow.

“i’m sorry for saying that. it was a shitty joke—”

“it wasn’t fucking funny, carm.”

he grunts, “all right. wasn’t funny, i’m sorry, baby.”

she continues to glare at him for another 30 to 45 seconds, but then her shoulders are slumping and her face is scrunching in that cute little pout and she’s whining like a sweet little baby.

“wasn’t funny, bear,” she grumbles, and carmy snickers.

“y’already said that; gimme a kiss.”

she shakes her head, fussy, and now it’s carmy’s turn to raise an impatient brow.

“what was that? speak up, baby.”

“no,” she groans, stomping her foot, trying to free her hands from behind her back, but there’s no way she’s getting out now, not if she wants to act like a brat.

“try again.”

“n—”

he yanks her into his chest, “try the fuck again.”

but when has she ever just willingly rolled over?

“let me go, carmen.”

“give me a fucking kiss, cub.”

—

they show up to carmy’s work gathering an hour and a half late, but who’s fucking fault is that (this, too, is a losing game)?

when they step into the venue together, all eyes immediately fall on them. how could they not?

carmen ‘carmy’ berzatto, the bear, and his new girl.

timothy ‘timmy’ grayson’s ex girl.

they don’t let it phase them, the side eye and poorly disguised whispering, just find their way to their way to the open bar and mingle with their inner circle.

the night quickly descends from business to casual, but that could just be because they were so late. as the older patrons slip out, the inconsequential jazz humming in the background is shut off, and then the ceiling is shaking with the bass of keep it g by asap rocky.

somehow, carmy’s on his second glass of bourbon and his girl just finished her third glass of wine and they’re…tipsy.

it’s not even like the song playing is inherently sexual, at all, really, but carmy’s lips are trailing over the back of her neck, uncoordinated—messy—and his fingers are digging into her hips because the way she’s fucking grinding on him should not be legal.

“god, cub,” he grunts in her ear, rolling his hips back into her.

“mhmm,” she moans in the back of her throat, subdued, swallowed down, and places her hands over his that grip at her like a lifeline. she lets her head fall back, settle in the crook of his neck so she can nose at the hinge of his jaw and suck a pretty hickey there, too.

he fully thrusts into her, the bass of the speakers muffling the too audible slap of their bodies connecting.

she squirms and squeaks, “bear!”

he growls, “what?”

she giggles in the shell of his ear. “down, boy. i gotta hit the restroom.”

carmy, very reluctantly, lets her slip from his grasp and venture to find the woman’s room. he nurses on another drink—whiskey, this time—but paces himself as he waits for his girl’s return.

that is, until he sees his girl in question talking with timothy fucking grayson. then, he downs the rest of his drink like water and calmly—calmly—walks up to them.

now, if (and this is a very big fucking if) carmen wasn’t being a complete a***** ******* ****** ***** *****, then maybe he would’ve noticed the rather unkempt state of his pretty broad, her soured expression and guarded body language.

he was being a complete redacted though, so he just steps behind her with his chest puffed and his jaw set, just itching for timmy to say something fucking stupid.

and that stupid fucking smirk on his stupid fucking face might scratch that itch just enough to satiate him.

“what’re y’doin’ with my girl, timmy?”

he doesn’t register the way she bristles against him at the term.

my girl.

“just makin’ friendly conversation,” he shrugs, still smirking, and carmy has never wanted his knuckles to split so fucking bad.

“friendly conversation?” he nearly coos back, the condescending, possessive prick. “why don’t y’find someone else to go make friendly conversation with, yeah? fuck off.”

he walks away before timmy boy gets the chance to respond, dragging his girl behind him.

when they make it back to the bar, he finally has the decency to assess his pretty broad. or, hound her, more like.

"what was he sayin' to you? and what the hell were you doin' with him in the fuckin' first place? if he bothers you again you come straight to me, understood?"

he's met with silence.

he frowns, looks down at his girl to find the same expression on her face, and goes to repeat himself. "i said, underst—"

"take me home, carmen."

his frown deepens. he bends in the knee to try and catch her eyes, but she turns her head away as soon as he glimpses her brown sugar irises.

"cub—"

"take me home, carmen. now."

and they've fought, all right? small tiffs here and there, "pick your fucking shoes up, carmen!", "stop fucking touching shit, carm!", "god, carmen, just leave me alone!" but this is different. deeper.

he's still frowning as he nods, mutters "okay," softly, as to not upset her any further, and places his hand on the small of her back to guide out of the venue doors and out to the valet.

usually, after a date, carmen will pull in to a parking space and get out first to open the passenger door for his girl and walk her up to her apartment, before either getting sent off with a goodnight kiss or getting tugged through her front door to continue where they'd left off.

this time, though, she out the door before the cars even full parked.

carmen rushes to keep up with her takes the stairs to her apartment two at a time.

"cub, wait up!"

she does no such thing.

in fact, she only seems to move faster in lieu of his request (brat).

he nearly misses his window to at least say goodnight to her, with the way she quickly keys into her home and tries to slam the door in his face, but a foot in the frame easily rectifies that.

"hey!" he barks at her, shoving the door open and slamming it shut after him.

"don't slam my damn door, carmen!"

"don't try to slam your damn door in my damn face, then!"

she frustratedly groans, arms flailing in exclamation. he watches her cautiously as she looks frantically for something—something, anything—before she's bending down to take off her dior heels.

clearly, something has pent up—boiled, festered—within her, because she chucks a shoe at his head (and for someone so unassuming, she has a damn good arm).

he ducks just before it can hit him, instead banging into the wall.

"what the fu— ow!"

she doesn't miss the second time.

"fuck you, carmen!" she screams at him.

"fuck you! you just threw your fucking shoe at my head! twice!"

"and you fucking deserved it," she cries, taking a step closer to him, pointing an accusatory finger. "you dick!"

"what the fuck did i do?" he shouts back, taking a step forward himself, brows furrowed in frustrated confusion.

"you— y-you—"

he takes another step toward her, "huh? i what? spit it the fuck out, baby."

not for the first time, she pouts like a kicked puppy, and her hands brace on his sturdy shoulders, and she pushes at him, angry. but, certainly for the first, carmy actually loses his balance. nearly trips over his feet with the way he stumbles backward.

"ugh, asshole! you made a bet!"

he frowns, bewildered. "what?"

"don't fucking lie to me, carm—"

"baby, what the fuck are you talking about?"

"stop fucking calling me that!" she screams, "with timothy! you made a bet with him before the fight, a bet on me!"

carmy's mouth hangs open, forming to phantom explanations that all fall too short or get too intimate—personal; she doesn't need to know the backstory, the why in his road to success. she can't, not yet. not so soon.

she shoves him again at his lack of response, and, for the second time, carmy stumbles back.

"fuck you, carmy!" she screams, eyes brimming and— fuck, she was not supposed to find out this way (well, ever, really, but surely not in this way). he racks his brain for sufficient a justification.

"fuck you, fuck you, fuck you! is that how you fucking see me? i'm just another belt you meatheads pass around and compete for? fucking kill yourselves over?"

"that's not true, baby—"

"i'm not your fucking baby!" she goes to shove him again, but he's ready this time, steeled. she throws her weight into each nudge and push and shove she gives to him, grunts and grumbles through the exertion of it, but he's stock-still like a statue now, and immovable force to be reckoned with.

"you done?" he mutters when she's huffin' and puffin' too hard to keep going.

her eyes snap from his chest to his baby blues, glaring. "fuck—!"

"—me? yeah, you've already said that, several times actually. now are you gonna let me explain, or do you wanna keep screamin'?"

her eyes, somehow, narrow further, teeth barred.

carmy prepares himself.

"do i wanna keep screamin'? well, since you fucking offered," she gripes, pounding her fists into his chest again. and he lets her. "you don't fucking think, do you? just puff your chest and fucking take it if you want it, right? god, carmen, i'm not some fucking toy—"

"i never implied that you were—"

"so you didn't bet you could fuck me better than timothy at the weigh-in?"

he snaps his mouth shut.

she scoffs, shakes her head. "un-fucking-believable," she mutters under her breath.

she sighs, and the (arguably) worst is over. but it's not like he necessarily welcomes the tears, either.

she sniffles, red-rimmed eyes sparkling in a pool of saltwater, and weakly shoves at his chest again.

"f-fuck you, bear," she weeps softly, voice cracking, head hanging, and carmy's never wanted to fix something so badly in his whole goddamn life. more than mikey. "i thought you fucking liked me—

"i do—!"

"stop lying—!"

and suddenly, carmen's had enough.

"be quiet," he barks.

the room falls silent.

he sighs, grips hers arms to keep her close and up right. drops his head to rest on hers, eye-to-eye, and she's too tuckered out to fight it.

his adams apple bobs, "i'm sorry, y/n," he whispers, and she doesn't think she's ever heard him so earnest before, so sad. "i'm sorry i made a bet on you, and hurt your feelings because of it. you're not a toy, or a belt, or any other prize, boxing or not; you're a human fucking being. and i'm sorry."

she sniffles again, and he takes her lack of shoving and yelling as clearance to continue.

"i'm not fucking sorry it worked, though." he can feel her tense, so he hurries on before she gets the wrong idea. "i'm not fucking sorry i saw you in that damn pink dress, in your damn pink heels, with you fucking pink toes. i'm not sorry that i talked to you after the match, and made good on my promise to timmy."

"carmen—"

he squeezes the sides of her shoulders, "i'm not sorry 'cause i do like you, cub, so fucking much."

she lifts her head, teary eyes blearily finding his, and she frowns up at him, like she doesn't believe him.

"why're lying?" she whimpers, all watery and sad sounding, and carmy just wants to swaddle her in a blanket and kiss her tears away.

he smiles gently at her, "m'not lyin', baby. do you think i'd still be here if all i wanted was a fuck and duck? that's what the ring girls are for, cub."

she makes a face at him, "ew! g-ross, carmy, don't—!"

he bites back a smirk. "you drive me insane," cuts her off, sliding his hands from her arms to her shea butter smooth palms. "you drive me up the fuckin' wall, actually. but i love that about you. i love that you don't take anyone's shit, including mine. love that you put me in my place, and tell me off when i step out of line." his tongue peaks out to lick his chapped bottom lip before he continues. "i love the way you curl up in a ball every night before bed because you can't sleep any other way, and i love the way you bitch and moan about your bones feelin' too stiff in the morning because of it." he regards her fondly, eyes flitting over every feature. “i love your teeth gems, and your long ass nails. i love it when you’re bare-faced and bushy-tailed, or when you’ve got a— what is it?”

she chokes on a snotty laugh, “a full beat?”

“a full beat!” he repeats, enthusiastic and beaming. they both take a moment to giggle, carmy’s hands finding purchase on her hips to draw her in, chest to chest. “i am sorry i hurt your feelings, cub, so fucking sorry. but i would make that bet ten fuckin’ thousand times over if it meant i’d end up anywhere with you.”

and now she’s crying for a whole different, much sweeter reason.

she pouts at him cutely, “bearrr!”

and it’s like nothing even happened.

“whaaat?” he groans, feigning annoyance. “snotty girl, look at those tears,” he tuts, “such a crybaby.”

“that’s not fair—!”

“hush,” he muses, walking them back toward her bedroom, deft fingers working to unfasten the many buttons of her dress. “you talk too much, anyone ever told you that? whatever, you should let me fuck you.”

“what?”

“you should let me fuck you.”

“you literally ate me out for an hour before we left, that’s why we were so fucking late. and who says you fuckin’ deserve it?”

carmy smirks, that’s his girl.

fuckin’ trouble.

he quirks a brow at her, fingers pausing their decent.

“you gonna let me earn it?”

—

a/n: hope u like it babies bc getting this done made me SICK (im serious i can’t fucking breathe right or swallow properly anymore 🙂‍↔️🫶🏽)

not proofread!!

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physics-of-one-piece · 6 months ago

Text

Things Doflamingo does/says in the I’ll build castles for you, my love (look at me, not my brother) Rosinante x Reader x Doflamingo Fic that had me shrieking in rage or melting at the sweetness while writing it just for everyone to get the vibe of the fic:

attempts to gaslight Reader into thinking Rosinante didn’t love her (this fails) even though he knows nothing of their relationship

is insulted he hadn’t been invited to the wedding and wasn’t best man while in the same breath saying he would have stolen Reader away from Rosinante to marry her because she is "too good for his stupid brother" and Rosinante "didn't deserve her"

strips NAKED on his fourth visit in Reader’s apartment without giving any warning he arrived

buys new furniture for Reader's apartment because "he doesn't like the colour" of the original one

buys Reader new clothes+pregnancy clothes+buys baby clothes+jewelry for Reader (he does all this without consulting Reader at all) + mocks the jewelry & clothes Rosinante gave her and calls it "ugly and cheap"

attempts to throw away Rosinante's clothes from the closet to make room for his change of clothes even though he stays there for two days every week (this fails)

sleeps outside of Reader's bedroom like a guard dog the first two months of visiting

mocks the marine cadets during their drills and trips them on purpose with his strings

trauma dumps on Reader while painting himself as the victim

says to Reader's face that she doesn’t get to decide what happens to her and he says if she wants to blame anyone for having to deal with him, she should blame Rosinante who was too weak to pull the trigger

ignores Reader telling him Rosinante still loved him

Doflamingo considers Reader and Reader's & Rosinante’s baby his

he hums when he cooks

cuddly with Reader, hugs her and kisses her cheeks when he arrives + later kneels and kisses Reader's baby bump, too

his reading pile are all books about pregnancy, it's everything he reads

shows interest in Reader’s books and reads them when he isn’t reading pregnancy books

after he makes Reader laugh for the first time, he doesn't stop smiling for a week

makes Reader laugh

supportive during pregnancy, barely blinks at the bodily fluids, patient/amused with the mood swings he uses to his advantage, always picks Reader up if she’s experiencing pain or after a bout of nausea and carries her to bed - uses this as a way to slide into bed beside her and sleep beside her

calls himself Uncle Doffy when talking to the baby bump

goes with Reader to all the medical tests and ultrasounds, gets copies of the ultrasounds and frames them on his office desk in Numencia, also keeps them in his treasure vault

makes Reader a flower crown of pink rose petals

makes Reader a bracelet of white and pink pearls from seashells and gifts it to her

keeps tabs on Reader's finances

brings Reader five hundred million berries worth of gold

sends Reader pink roses and letters

hums while he cooks

he can't dance that well, but boy, he can SING

takes his sunglasses off with Reader

loves Reader's cooking, it's his favourite

calm and collected when the childbirth starts

stays past his allowed days in Marineford while Reader delivers the baby

sits on the ground in the hospital hallway after the baby is born, covered in sweat, and laughs before tears slide out from under his sunglasses and down his cheeks

confesses his love for Reader on his knees in front of her, never pushes but boy does he MANIPULATE everything around them so Reader & the baby can one day live with him

can lose his patience and become an absolute EVIL DEMON

stressed and shook by the thought of Reader confusing him with Rosinante when his hair is down, verbally confirms it, begging Reader to look at him, not his brother

Clingy, possessive & protective as fuck

Word Count Report:

Doffy's part is now 2 parts, 1 part is 10k words, the next part is above 3k, I'm not nearly done with Rosinante's part and even that's already 6k words. Going slow but steady. I should work more on Rosi's part but Doffy has my heart and soul in his grip, I keep writing more and more for his part 🤧 Idk whether this is worth a tag but I'll tag just in case.

Taglist: @fanaticsnail @box-of-bats

#doflamingo x reader #donquixote doflamingo x reader #donquixote doflamingo x you #doflamingo x y/n #donquixote doflamingo #one piece #doflamingo #op doflamingo #op doffy #one piece x reader

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eternal-love · 2 months ago

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hey girly! i feel like you've been writing a lot of angsty fics lately. so i've decided to give you a fluffy request!

maybe you can write a fic, it can be austin or austin!elvis, and reader and him are celebrating their marriage anniversary!

love u much, ur amazing! 💝💐

VENUS

Pairing: Austin!Elvis x Fem!reader

Summary: You weren’t able to celebrate your anniversary but a year later, Elvis makes up for that.

Warning: just the colonel

Note: I’m a whore for 60s!elvis do this is obviously set in the 60’s. I know it’s short but I really liked it, I hope that my girl likes it too! Love ya, girl!!! @ilovereadingfanfics

I’m so sick too, like omg. But this is what my sickness allowed me to write.

The last year had been rough, too many movies, albums, everything going on with the colonel, you didn’t get the chance to celebrate your first wedding anniversary.

But now, March 1967, you were in Palm Springs, finally resting.

“My favorite woman.” Elvis’ voice rang through your ears, his accent like honey. You smiled at him, he sat on a chair by your side and patted his very own lap. “C’mere, satnin.”

You obeyed, walking over and sitting on his lap. Your arms around his neck.

“Do the guys need to be here for our anniversary?” You asked. Look, he brought not only the Memphis Mafia but his father and his grandmother.

You had expected a romantic getaway, private, so that you two could get— comfortably intimate.

“You know that I like to included ‘em on everything, baby.” Elvis purred, he didn’t like it when you wanted to talk bad about his friends. Or the fact that they were always there.

“I know.” You tried to convince yourself that you enjoyed their presence. That it didn’t bother you. But it did, it always did. You wanted your husband for yourself, not being interrupted by a man every five minutes.

“Just get all dolled up for tonight. Tease your hair to the high heavens. Wear them pretty lashes.” Elvis rubbed your cheek, you felt the cold of his rings against your skin.

You, of course, listened to what he said and got dressed up the way he liked you. With the big black hair, the bold eye look. The pretty matching outfit.

You knew he was wearing a baby blue turtleneck so you opted to wear a baby blue shift dress.

“A bit tight, isn’t it?” Elvis spoke from the doorframe, making you startle.

“Elvis!” You said, both against him scaring you and making that comment.

“It’s the truth, satnin. Ya are packing up…” Elvis crossed his arms and leaned against the doorframe.

“I know.” You huffed, the dress still fit but it wasn’t as loose as it was supposed to be.

“Imagine how gorgeous you would look pregnant, satnin.” Elvis wrapped his arms around you, oh, he adored you. “But all of this, is thanks to Mary’s food. Ain’t it?”

“I suppose is true.” You sighed. “E, I wanted to talk to ya about sumthin’-“

“Ah. They’re waitin’ down the hall. C’mon, I have sumthin’ for ya too.” He interrupted you. You nodded and looked at yourself one last time.

As you walked behind him, everyone was gathered in the living room. Clapping and cheering you both. But your whole focus was on your man, on Elvis. And how attractive he looked.

You say by his side as everyone moved around, Jerry pulled out his video camera and started recording.

“See, now this…” Elvis pulled a box from beneath the cushion. You opened it and it was a bracelet, it had Elvis’ name carved in it. “So that everyone knows you’re mine.”

“Elvis, I think everyone knows that.” You joked as you kindly accepted the thoughtful anniversary gift. “But I love it.”

He helped you put it on, you turned to look at Jerry, who was recording, and you proudly showed off not only your brand new gold bracelet, but your hug wedding ring. Also pulling Elvis’ hand so that he showed his too, you were proud of being Elvis’ wife.

He chose you!

“An anniversary gift for my boy and his wife.” The colonel said, he was a horrid distaste for you. You took too much time and attention, when in reality, it was viceversa.

He took your Elvis from you all the time. Always working like a damn mule. Like a slave on a mine. But you couldn’t say anything about it, it was men’s business as Elvis called it.

“It’s a beautiful trophy, colonel. I appreciate it.” You smiled, it had ‘happy one year!’ Engraved on a golden plate. Elvis held it proudly on his big hands, his smile cheekier than ever.

“Look at that, satnin. One year, one damn year. Imagine how the the tenth one will look.” He smiled, leaning down to kiss your neck. Jerry made sure to keep that on video tape. “Goin’ strong!” He made sure to extend your hand, this time he wanted to show you off, you were his, his bride, his love, his satnin.

You felt proud, a year anniversary ain’t something easy.

“When are ya gonna start popping out babies?” Elvis’s grandmother said. Obviously joking, but everything Dodger said held some truth to it.

You didn’t know if you say it or not. But everyone stared at you, as if they were actually expecting an answer, hell, even Elvis got flabbergasted.

“Pretty soon, actually. Right now I’m pregnant.” You blurted out, maybe it was that you couldn’t hold it in anymore.

There was a silence between everyone on the living room, until Elvis hugged you tightly.

“So there’s where those extra pounds come from.” He said excitedly. “I’m gonna be a daddy! Ya hear that, daddy? You’re gonna be a white-haired grand daddy!”

You smiled excitedly as he kissed your cheek over and over, his hand on your jaw.

“We’re gonna be parents.” You smiled, chuckling too.

“Ya hear that? Another little thing will be mine forever. Ain’t it? A little girl! Imma spoil her rotten. Imma buy her the best damn nursery Memphis has seen. Daddy, colonel. Make sure to buy the best of the best for my baby.”

Elvis was so excited. She hoped that the baby would look like you. But also like him. With sunlight in their hair, stars in their eyes, the brightest smile, cute little laugh. And he wanted a girl. A girl would be perfect.

He prayed to Venus, to god, to whoever was listening, that the baby had all the charms of you and him, that could chuckled and giggle whenever he hugged them or kissed their chubby cheeks.

It wasn’t too much to ask, was it?

“I’ll give ‘em all the love that I can give while I live, satnin, I promise you that.” Elvis whispered to you that night, his hand never leaving your stomach.

Make my wish come true.

#austin butler #austinbutler #austin butler fanfiction #austin butler imagine #austin butler x reader #austin butler fic #austin butler is so hot #austin butler x you #austin butler x y/n #elvis and me #austin!elvis x reader #elvis x reader #elvis x you #elvis x y/n

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gallifreyanhotfive · 8 months ago

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Random Doctor Who Facts You Might Not Know, Part 56

One time when a baby was Cyber-converted, they were given regular Cyber-arms as well as a Cybermat tail. (Novel: Illegal Aliens)

Chewing on jelly babies helps the Doctor think. The Eighth Doctor said that the "tensile strength of a jelly baby offers the perfect resistance." (Audio: World of Damnation)

Speaking of jelly babies, the Eighth Doctor once went missing for days because he was looking for the perfect jelly baby. (Novel: The City of the Dead)

Zoe had the Second Doctor install an orthopaedic bed in her room on the TARDIS. (Novel: The Menagerie)

There is such a phenomenon as temporal tsunamis. (Audio: The Other Side)

TARDIS heartbeats must keep a steady rhythm, so when they are parked, they continue to travel through time at the same speed as their pilot. Otherwise, the TARDIS would be lost to the past (if they were traveling at a slower speed) or disappear into the future (if they were going at a faster speed). (Audio: 1963)

On Gallifrey, marriages mainly serve to strengthen political alliances between the different Great Houses and to maintain the Chapter's power. (Audio: Spirit)

Vassar Dust looks somewhat like snow and is always cold. It also has some telepathic qualities. This dust is a byproduct of time travel. (Novel: Loving the Alien)

Ian once woke up inside a Time Museum as an exhibit. He had been removed from his own time with a time scoop. The curator of the museum - Pendolin - had time scooped Ian with the hope of attracting the Doctor’s attention and making him his prized exhibit, but he did not successfully get the Doctor’s attention. (Audio: The Time Museum)

The Doctor kept a bracelet (that appeared to be made of gold) in a trunk in his TARDIS. After regenerating, the Second Doctor retrieved it, looked at it fondly for a short while, and then returned it. Ben saw that it had odd pictures on it but couldn't make it out. (Novel: The Power of the Daleks)

John Benton, Sarah Jane Smith, and Allison Williams were all involved in the clean-up following the Cyberman invasion from The Tenth Planet. (Novel: The Power of the Daleks)

The Doctor thinks of the entire universe as their foster family after their parents had "decided to opt out of their responsibilities." (Novel: Beltempest)

The First Doctor's left hand was cut off in a sword fight with a Soul Pirate captain. He had to get a new one fashioned for him as it did not grow back. (Short story: A Big Hand for the Doctor)

As revenge for his defeat on the Enlightenment, the Black Guardian altered the established timeline. To defeat them, the Seventh Doctor, Ace, and Benny had to reassemble the Key to Time. The following objects are actually segments of the Key to Time: the First Doctor's TARDIS instruction manual, the Second Doctor's stovepipe hat, one of the swords used when Ace fought the Third Doctor, one of the Fourth Doctor’s jelly babies, a cricket ball used by the Fifth Doctor, and the Sixth Doctor's cat badges. (Comic: Time & Time Again)

The Third Doctor used to visit the zoo frequently. He'd often sit across the tiger, feeling some sort of camaraderie with them. He spent some of his wages upgrading the tiger enclosure, but the tiger's mind had already been broken. They continued walking back and forth as though their enclosure was still small. The Doctor decided to be sure that his mind wouldn't also break in his captivity because one day his TARDIS would be fixed and he couldn't stick in his old habits when that happened. (Audio: Walls of Confinement)

On one such visit to the zoo, the Brigadier had the Doctor babysit his godson. The Doctor didn't keep a close enough eye on the boy, and he ended up in the tiger enclosure. (Audio: Walls of Confinement)

Fitz Kreiner once found an old woman in the TARDIS library. Her name was Emily, and she had been dressed in clothes one might expect a teenager to wear in the 1960s. She was also covered in cobwebs. Fitz brought her to the Eighth Doctor, who recognized her and seemed embarrassed about her presence, but Emily didn't recognize the Doctor. (Novel: Mad Dogs and Englishmen) Though never explicitly clarified, Emily had likely entered the TARDIS as a teenager, got lost, and lived her entire life in the TARDIS. As she didn't recognize the Eighth Doctor, this event would have predated his incarnation. Perhaps she was even one of Susan's classmates.

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carelessflower · 1 month ago

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alec closet analysis thread

now it's confirmed that alec THE ultimate successor of broke nepo baby - sugar baby - tradwife pipeline, I compile a list of what items and brands i think he would use

casual wear

alec's style is the fit in trsom where he layer a leather jacket over hoodie, except now the leather jacket is some authentic italian leather costing 1000$ and the hoodie is ralph lauren. very subtle, very preppy boarding school with inheritance quiet luxury boy, ysl (magnus got confirmed wearing them and magnus shop/magic clothes for alec), loro piana, ami paris (magnus think "a" can be an initial alec is tres chic)

outerwear

classic burberry trench coat, leather jacket (a must), puffer, bomber, if in in dark color and cozy, there 70% chance alec wants it. fw chanel tweed stuff but non-monogram only. oh yeah got access to magnus unlimited closet of fur coat and been dressing in mob wife style every winter (it suit him so why change)

formal wear

structured, clean line, no fussy business. rarely do a three piece suit, unless it's a fancy nightout with magnus. layered his sweater/turtleneck with a blazer all the time. in shadoworld gala or events his suit would have pop of red either from the tie, the brooch or the detail to signal his position while blending in with other party-goers (consul robe wouldn't be sensible, considering shadowhunters history with downworlders). i can see ysl, celine, bottega, alexander mcqueen and peter do (the suit with the open back is for magnus only)

bag

THE shadoworld birkin mom, his collection isn't the biggest in the world because he's very particular in his pieces, no neon, overt pattern or rhinestone. got a mini birkin to store his airphones and gummy bear and izzy can't believe this is her brother's life now. big fans of every big bag imaginable, his birkin always looks like it may burst any moment. louis vuitton duffle bag, neutral, no excessive logo

jewelry

like anything silver, white gold, platinum, diamond, sapphire, pearl. tolerable of period and colored diamonds. keep ruby (bad association), gold and those god-awful rolex away from him please. own a couple of richard mille but only for fancy occasions, his go-to is usually vintage gucci bangle or cartier tank. got matching cartier love bracelet with max. break about 4 sets van cleef albraham but magnus like how delicately they sit on his collarbone so he gonna keep being restocked on them. for ring: harry winston, tiffany, graff, his fave shape is carre, emerald, cushion

perfume

woody, slightly white floral (he doesn't play about jasmine), anything fresh and clean, skin type of perfume. he's basically smell like entering a very expensive yet worth-the-price therapist's office. mfk 724, another 13, the matcha, and do son would be perfect. magnus got a whole shelves of kilian, alec basically take a look and one bottle and that's it. unless you're magnus don't come near him with anything patchouli or overwhelmed musk he would scowl as if your existence's offensive

tag list: @magnus-the-maqnificent @literallytypogod @hoezier-than-thou @sociallyineptbibliophile @queenlilith43

@khaleesiofalicante @wandererbyheart @raziyekroos @onetimetwotimesthreetimess @alexandergideonslightwood

@noah-herondale-lightwood @elettralightwood @dustandducks @deliciousdetectivestranger @delightfullyterrible

@letsgofortacos

@kita-no @thelightofthebane @secrettryst @goldendreams3 @cityofdownwardspirals

@stupidfuckindinosaur

@i-have-not-slept @rinadragomir @potato-jem @kasper-tag

@banesapothecary @culiehua @izzysimcns

#alec lightwood #malec #tsc #tmi #shadowhunters #the mortal instruments #the shadowhunter chronicles #tscxfashion #alec analysis #aleclysis #got a phd at alectington what's your excuse #perfume

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aryxchse · 3 months ago

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the prince and the princess. / jason grace x daughter of hera! reader dating headcanons!

a / n : i can't stop thinking abt him lately, sorry folks! and yes, since i am a sucker for 'history repeats itself' troupe, i am writing daughter of hera fic AGAIN. proud and hot 🎀

warnings : cursing, pure love, jason being a little cocky because i know rick didn't gave him enough credit

- can we agree that hera is so happy?

- her champion and daughter being together?? dream coming true

- and she knows jason will treat you good, unlike his father did to her

- so you guys already have her approval and we don't care about zeus / jupiter in this household

- back to you cutesies

- jason is so husband material

- like you're so much like your mother, but he isn't like his father

- for example ;;

- you'd be angry about something—anything really, and jason would calmly continue to read his book, murmuring 'it's okay sweetie' or 'yes, you're right. you're always right baby' once in a while to make sure you know he's listening

- most of the children of hera suffers from jealousy, so if your fatal flaw is jealousy, he'd do this 10 times more

- but he's not bored, he thinks this is an ideal relationship because you never act toxic towards him

- just sometimes a little bit more jealous but that's okay, jason loves it

- you guys are the prince and princess, like the name of this fic

- you two visit olympus more than any demigod seriously

- you having therapy sessions with your mother while jason gets angry at zeus for making hera sad again

- you do couple therapy for them fr

- back to jason being a husband

- i don't know how, but he makes heart shaped thunders in camp when he's out on a quest

- call it connection and him being powerful, but it's just so romantic

- like whenever a heart shaped thunder appears, the campers are like 'yup, that's jason missing y/n right there'

- you guys already have promise rings

- mother and father of the camp

- like, literally

- you're so good with kids, such a mother material (wow what a suprise), and he's such a father bro

- he's so good and gentle with kids?? it makes you wanna cry and throw up from love

- your favorite flowers on your door every sunday

- and he gaves it as one, for you to collect them and make a bouquet yourself

- he already made a deal with the hecate or demeter or persephone kids for the flowers to never die

- power couple by the way but i don't think i have to mention this

- i imagine children of hera being the opposite of the children of the nyx, like owning the sky and heavens, but they're powerful as much

- not more powerful, read carefuly.

- and yeah, owning the sky together? what a couple can do more than that

- flying dates whenever you feel stressed

- visiting the old temples

- constantly hearing the 'hera and zeus' jokes

- literally being an old married couple

- my boy jason loving teasing you while you're angry

- what can i say? you got your temper from your mother and he got his sarcastic behavior from his father

- natural leaders

- you being jason's mastermind

- you're the mastermind of all the big three's children atp

- him gifting you little things from your element

- like one time he gifted you a hair clip that was the shape of an peacock feather

- and you're constantly wearing lightning earrings

- matching jewelry but it's like.. a royalty level you know what im saying?

- like it's not some bracelet which made from the beads or string

- i'm talking about real silver or gold here

- and it's so minimalistic that it looks so good

- you guys are the most chill couple camp has ever seen

- like those couples on tv that ates their five minutes screen time

- wiping his glasses for him, even when he doesn't notice it's dirty

- he casually greets you by giving you a knight greeting, on his one knee, hand on his chest

- properly, like the queen you are

- zeus take notes fr

- long story short, you guys are too iconic but i guess i don't have to say that

#this been in my drafts for almost a fucking year guys #this is me writing for mha lmao #i read it again and LOVED IT #percy jackson #percy jackon and the olympians #percy jackson and the heroes of olympus #percy jackson series #pjo hoo toa #percy jackson imagine #jason grace imagine #jason grace x y/n #jason grace x you #jason grace headcanon #jason grace pjo #jason grace

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jinxedmuse · 1 year ago

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seventeen ot13 reaction + head cannon: if they had a black cat personality type s/o that showed affection (not so) subtly

authors note: hiii! enjoy these quick scenarios i wrote today bcs i realllyyy miss the boys! a lot of these were hard to write but i tried staying true to their personal ideal types + how the members like to receive affection! enjoy :,)

special dt to: @chwecandi mi new amiga! ty 4 being crazy over the boys with me 😭🫂

warnings: none, some kisses here & there but nothing suggestive, should be gender neutral, teeth rotting fluff <3

choi seungcheol: acts of service s/o

scoups knows you aren’t the outwardly affectionate type and respects that but he is such a baby boy :(

as the maknae of his family & yet the eldest + leader of 12 men he NEEDS TO BE TAKEN CARE OF FROM TIME TO TIME (almost all the time) !! he’d be coming home from work exhausted but craving your touch.

you’d give him the quickest peck on the cheek (right on his dimple) before pushing him towards the bathroom.

“why, whyyy, i wanna cuddle!!” he’d complain all pouty :(((

he opens the door and almost cries on the spot. you had prepared him a piping hot water bath with lavender scented epsom salt for any possible soreness and roses for extra hydration. his towel was already hung up as was his robe for when he got out.

he immediately turns back and looks at you like???? why are you the best person ever??? gives you kisses all over your face repeatedly, you tilt your head back trying to dodge some but you secretly loved it.

“okay cheollie get in before it gets cold, choo go away.” you’d complain.

he smiles and starts undressing himself at your order. he gets into the tub and lets out a pleasurable sigh, feeling instantly relaxed. you give a smile at the doorway, happy that your person was content. you’re about to close the door when he suddenly called your name.

“you’re not gonna join me?”

p.s (you joined him ;)

rest of members below!

yoon jeonghan: words of affirmation + acts of service s/o

you and jeonghan enter a new restaurant together. he had been excited, seeing an ad about it a few weeks before it’s opening and wanted to take you but he was too busy to ever make any reservations himself.

so, you had secretly done it yourself to line it up with his free schedule.

“booths or table?” the waiter ask and before jeonghan could answer you spoke up. “table, please.”

jeonghan pouted but followed the lead, heading to your table. “babe, i wanted the booths so i could be closer to you” he said as he sat down on the opposite side of you.

to be honest, you had always found couples who sat in booths up each others asses were frustrating to look at. maybe it’s just because you weren’t the biggest fan of physical touch.

and, today jeonghan had his short black hair styled so that he had slight layers and a bang. he was wearing a black button up with the sleeves rolled up. his black and gold yves saint laurent bracelet fully showing around his slightly veiny arm. you wanted to admire him face to face and the best way to do that was with tables.

so you told him that.

“i wanted you in my direct line of view. you look handsome.” you replied nonchalantly, focusing back on the menu.

he nearly got out his seat to give you a kiss then and there. yoon jeonghan was without a doubt, an insane visual. he was aware of the effect his looks had on people but he was so used to being called: beautiful, pretty etc, especially when he had his longer hair so this felt new. it made his heart flutter.

your words were always so straightforward yet no matter how long you had been dating, they always had an effect on him.

jeonghan put a hand over his heart, making sure it was still beating properly because he could’ve sworn it skipped a beat.

“y/n” he said your name gently, full of love. you looked up, confused at the sudden tone, there was a clear shift in the air that felt way too emotional for you.

“you know how much i love you, right?” he asked. it was a rhetorical question. you knew clear and through, and you had always made sure to let him know as well since too much of physical touch or pda made you slightly uncomfortable.

“i know, i do too.” you replied with a smirk. he was about to speak up once more but the waiter came up to your table, breaking the tension in the air.

hong joshua: gift giving s/o

“ahh babe, this is the third gift you’ve already given me in the last two weeks.” he adorably complained, looking at the new box sitting in front of him.

you pushed his head to the side before pointing at the box. “open it.” you ordered. excited for him to see what would be inside.

he complied, opening up the box and the smile never left his face. it was a perfume making set with customized bottles that had his name on them.

he was practically beaming from ear to ear. eyes almost disappearing as he smiled.

he looked adorable.

you wanted to say it but you always had a problem with cheesy things or just putting your words together in general. so you bought him things, anything he wanted, stuff he looked at for a second; just to see that smile.

joshua turned to embrace you, pulling you into a big hug. you hesitated for a moments before hugging back, hand patting his back slightly awkwardly.

“i really appreciate all this, and you most of all. seriously.”

your heart quite literally skipped a beat but you’d rather eat a 100k scorch level peoper before admitting that.

[a/n: didn’t really mention it but i feel like we all collectively know joshua is 100% the giving type as well >< !!]

wen junhui: quality time s/o

if you were a black cat, wen junhui was an orange one through and through. sure, your boyfriend looked cold but he was a cinnamon role embodied to you and his members.

always finding a new prank to play, new flirting technique he learned on the internet or simply finding any excuse to touch you. it was often overwhelming but you loved him regardless.

jun recently started feeling like he was annoying you, you could tell because whenever he’d be rambling about something he’d cut himself short on his own accord. you’d tell him to continue but he’d simply say it wasn’t important.

it hurt you that he felt that way and you wanted him to know that you didn’t find him annoying. you valued him and his company and didn’t mind if that came along with his constant tricks.

that’s why you called him over your apartment one day after his schedule. he came over, slightly worried because he usually had to make the first move to hang out.

you opened the door and there he was, standing in all his glory. you opened the door wider and he came through, instinctively going in for a hug which you allowed.

“soo..” he started shyly, looking around your apartment.

“what did you plan on doing today?” he asked you, meeting your eyes, searching to see if it would give away what you were scheming.

but you weren’t scheming anything, you simply missed your boyfriend.

“nothing, just missed your presence.” you replied coyly, looking down at your feet before looking back up at him and ohhhh boy was he smiling like a cheshire cat.

you made your way to you living room and flooped down on your couch, he followed behind you and watched you.

you patted the empty seat next to you while looking up at him.

“sit next to me, please.”

that’s all it took for him to practically leap onto the couch, claiming his space next to you. he pulled you into an embrace before settling down and laying his head on your lap.

kwon soonyoung: gift giving + physical touch

you had just left a restaurant with your boyfriend and you were now walking around your favorite secluded park.

you stop in your tracks once you remembered something, “oh right, i have something for you.”

hoshi looks at you, his pink lips forming into a pout. “well this is awkward because i have something for you too.” he’d say.

you pull out the gifs at the same time and you both can’t help but laugh, they were both jewelry boxes.

“ah kwon soonyoung, what am i going to do with you?” you asked teasingly, he’d be so exited like a cute hamster tiger, urging you to open his first.

you open it and sure enough, it’s a ring from the matching couple set the brand had to offer. he’d open yours and it was the necklace/chain version from the same brand.

“i think we’re actually meant to be” he’d say in suchhhh a serious tone it’d make your heart flutter.

“yeah right, as in fate?” you’d say walking away, (after putting on your gifts of course >:( !!), when he’d suddenly tug you back into him.

a warm embrace on a cold winter day, he places a gentle kiss on your head before releasing you and you can’t help but smile.

he truly knew how to make you the shyest person on earth.

jeon wonwoo: words of affirmation? (he talks x you listen) + quality time

jeon wonwoo had a cold and quiet persona but those close to him knew it was all but true.

he was silly, loving when people reacted well to his jokes. he loved learning or reading something new and rushing to tell his loved ones (you) his new learned information, most of all, he loved interactive video games.

he had invited you over about 2 hours ago and you guys were currently sitting on his couch, playing a newly released game side by side.

while you were playing, he had been rambling on about his day. everything from what time he had to wake up, rehearsals, how there was a new makeup artist, comeback concept, and even the last joke hoshi made as they were leaving set.

making sure not to leave anything out even as he concentrated on the game.

it was no longer you turn during the game so while he was wrapping up his story you took a hand and brought it up to his head, petting his hair gently before letting your hand rest at the nape of his neck for a second.

“you’ve been working so hard. you’re doing really well. i’m beyond proud of you woo.” is all you’d say before retreating your hand and picking up your controller once more.

he looked at you, a warm feeling in his stomach. ever since he got with you, he truly learned what (romantic) love was.

“i’m so glad you’re mine.” he’d reply, his cute smile taking over his face before he’d focused back on his game.

[a/n: K!LL ME NOW I WANT HIM SO BAD??\€£\ okay u may continue]

lee jihoon: quality time/physical touch (+ acts of service if u squint)

composer s/o x producer woozi

are you kidding me? this man is head over heels in love with you. and he’s very apparent about that, in his own way.

you guys are both black cats so the whole pda and overally affectionate aspect is out the window but behind closed doors? in the confines of your own houses/studios?

whole different story.

you guys compose and produce music with one or the other on each others lap. gently playing with each others hair, rubbing each others stomach, and sometimes he massages your thigh. nothing inherently sexual about it, he just loves touching you. doesn’t even realize he’s doing it sometimes.

when you’re too busy to see each other he’d ask you to send him a voice note and you would (so confused?) next thing you know he adds it to the beginning or ending of a song he’s working on. adding it to your private mixtape for each other :(

when he’s working too hard, you’d sneak into his studio, keeping him company quietly. you’d place a energy drink and some food by him, patting his hair before giving him a gentle peck on the cheek.

“you’re working hard, take care of yourself as well babe. call me when you’re done, i reserved (seats/tickets/etc) for us around (insert time)”

he’d literally melt???

lee seokmin: acts of service + words of affirmation

you guys are sooooo grumpy x sunshine coded :(((((

oh heavens, he loves u sm like it’s BAD for him??? GET UP DK!

you’d be exiting a restaurant and notice he’s a bit too tall for the walk way door thingy (spare me) so you’d go on your tippy toes and have your hand over it, protecting his head in case he hit himself.

(his heart nearly exploded at the action please let him rest)

it’d be cold outside and he’d have no gloves. you give him one of yours (albeit his hands are wayy bigger) but he’d still be so grateful.

with both your gloveless hands, you’d take them and put them in your pocket. keeping them away from the cold.

(he blushed so bad he litch got warm, give him a warning?)

one day while taking pictures, he didn’t like how any of them turned turned out. you aren’t (really?) on social media so you couldn’t understand the dynamics of the right angle, right lighting and his need to capture the “perfect bf material pic”

whatever that meant??

you let him complain all he wanted but you get annoyed the second he even ATTEMPTS to slander his looks (absolute blasphemy in your books!)

“my (insert body part) makes me look a littl-“ before he can even finish his sentence you cut him off.

“it makes you look too handsome. you’re right, don’t post he pics; i’m not ready to keep sharing my boyfriend with the world.” you’d say in the most seemingly serious tone??? (you were being 100% serious)

he dropped his phone onto the couch, no longer caring about the pictures and pulled you down onto him. the biggest smile on his face as though he won the lottery.

“it hurts how much i love you.” he’d say.

kim mingyu: also acts of service + words of affirmation

husband material gyu 100% loves getting taken care of after (also) having to cook and clean for/after his members who tease him relentlessly (pos i swear!!)

he’d come home sooo tired after a long day of filming content, all he wanted to do was sleep.

you’d be too busy to greet him at the door. in the kitchen, cooking him his favorite comfort meal for the night.

he comes in the kitchen, giving you a back hug as you finished up the last dash.

“i knew i smelled something delicious, my favorite person cooking my favorite meal.”

he attempts to give you a kiss but you had honestly felt stuffy from being in the kitchen so long and your face was kinda sweaty “ahhh gyu noo, at least let me shower first” you’d complain, letting him hug you but pulling your head away.

he’d pout but understand, backing up to give you your space. you’d turn around seeing him pout, God was it adorable but you stood your ground.

“also, the bed is already made and i have some comfortable clothes laid out for you once you’re done eating & your shower.”

he’d smile so lovingly like what did he do to deserve you??? and his heart grows even fonder once you said:

“tell me about your day over dinner, you’ve been doing so much and i’m super proud but i’ve missed you.”

if he worshipped anyone it would 100% be you. you were his knight in shining armoire especially after long days like this.

xu minghao: quality time + acts of service

you guys are adorably in love with each other i’m jealous! he paints you so much (+places you’ve been tg & etc) that he could practically open up a museum of his fondest memories of you.

you weren’t so bad at the art either so one day you decided to surprise him.

you didn’t even hear him once he came home.

“babe?” he’d call out in the cutest voice, looking for you. he needed to recharge and you are 100% his vitamin.

he’d find you in your office working on a painting of??? him??? if his heart could grow any bigger for you it just did.

“wow, i think i’m in love with you?” his voice would startle yo, pulling you out of your train of thoughts while painting.

“oh hey ming” is all you’d say with a timid smile before returning to your work.

“well, i’ll let you finish up” he’d but you almost get whiplash from how fast you turned around.

“no! i have some nido soup i made earlier in the pot. it should be still kinda warm. heat yourself some and pull up a chair next to me.”

(his heart just did a back flip btw)

he smiled ohhhh so beautifully yk that one smile he does when he’s looking at the members fondly? yeah that one ughhh :(

boo seungkwan: words of affirmation

boo is wayyyy more sensitive then he lets on. he needs all the love and support you have to offer because our boy works hard :(

since you can’t see each other often because of all his promotions, you had an idea! a very cheesy one but an idea nonetheless!

you had a heart shaped jar, on it you wrote “for me boo: seungkwan” . inside the jar were 100 exact folded sticky notes filled with things you absolutely adored about him.

small things from how cute he looked when he scrunched up his nose when he laughed to deeper things only the two of you spoke about on late night, reminders that you truly paid attention to him.

now a part of you was physically in pain from this but oh the moment you thought about how happy he would be you didn’t care how sappy it was.

you gave it to his manager to give it to him after one of his shoots. he opened it in the car, reading one was all it took for him to start balling.

he called you right after and immediately planned a date night, suddenly not being able to handle the absence of your presence ;(

(you found out he keeps these with him at all times whenever he needs a pick me up)

chwe vernon hansol: words of affirmation

like big time HELLO SHOWER HIM IN PRAISE FOR THE BEAUTIFUL BOY HE IS ??? (but also don’t overwhelm him!! be the smooooth ass mf ik u are!)

you guys are chilling on his couch, watching his newly released music video. his head on your lap as you played with his ear (which he’s absolutely smitten over but it’s hard for him to admit that)

his part comes up and your heart rate litch goes faster the moment he’s on the screen.

“you look really good in this shot.” you’d say, trying to keep your cool and collected composure.

“oh yeah?” he’d reply. no longer looking at the video but positioning himself to where he’s looking at you.

you continue talking, avoiding eye contact because you know you can’t handle the way he looks up at you with his pretty brown eyes through his long lashes.

“yeah. your voice and your style of rap is cool, it makes me want to constantly rewind just to see it again. i’m proud of all the work you do, i wish you could appreciate yourself the way i do you.”

and ohhhh my?? if you didn’t have his heart before (which you did) you CERTAINLY had it now!

if you picked him up, he’d probably be a pile of mush. to say your words had an effect on him was an understatement.

you as a whole rocked his world. undoubtedly.

lee chan: quality time + acts of service

you entered the practice room quietly, trying not to disturb the younger guy but he immediately turns around. a big smile on his face as soon as he sees you.

“baby, i missed you!” he’d say with the CUTEST face ever might i add???

you smiled and held up both your hands, takeout in one and drinks in the other.

“you’ve been copped up in here almost all day, i got you some stuff.” you’d say. he knew you weren’t trying to baby him although you were older, just worried that you boyfriend hasn’t fed himself properly today.

“i know i know, i have a new choreo i wanna learn for danceology”

you looked at him with fondness, he truly worked so hard. it was nothing but admirable.

“well then don’t mind me, i’ll sit over there” you pointed to in front of the mirror. you wanted a full view of him working his magic.

“you wanna watch me dance?” he’d ask all cutely (yk how when he was a question for one of the older members :(???)

you nodded, small smile on your face and he got sooo excited! he can do something he loves in front of the person he loves and then eat some food he loves???? triple win!

[a/n: he is the cutest ever i Want to bash my head into a wall also thank you so much if you read all i hope i destroyed ur view of parasocial relationships 🙂! stay safe & enjoy ur day/night!!!!! xoxo]

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